A Dark Beginning
by KatoHunter
Summary: Soul, a fallen general, is on the run. Searching for the place in his dream; not knowing where his path may take him or who he will meet; he travels blindly - encountering fierce foes and forming binding relationships. Give this story a chance, you may be pleasantly surprised. SoMa /more by request. AU. M for violence/gore and maybe lemons much later.
1. Chapter 1: Intro Part 1

**A Dark Beginning**

****_-Chapter 1-_

Intro Part 1

* * *

Soul woke with a start. Thick, black rain poured off the shutters, streaming down the mottled stones that bordered the dilapidated home he was sleeping in.

Opening, or rather, throwing off the faded green, rotting windowpanes, he appeared to stare at the sky. The night burned red at the horizon, matching the crimson darkness that was his eyes. A sharp-toothed grin stretched unnaturally across the bottom half of his face and as creases formed near his eyes, his head tilted ever so slightly – such was his mood.

The white frosted, spiky mop of hair that adorned his head had streaks of red flowing like veins, though these soon disappeared as they swirled their way down his face, the large splatters of water forcing the dirt and blood out. He wore a suit, military in nature, with a few medals hanging across his heart. His black trousers are sliced at the right knee; blood seeped from the cut.

Soul, standing in front of the doorway, is silhouetted: a strong frame fills the old suit, wide shoulders giving him an imposing air; his face scarred from many battles, a thin line cascading down his jaw; his legs straight and taught.

As he smiles, steam slowly rises from him, the wisps dancing about him as though frightened. He turns back inside, reaching in for his two swords. The first sword is incredibly ornate; patterns bolt down the centre, the lower side has jagged teeth while the top is smooth and sharp.

It is as wide as two men and reaches far down Soul's back; an unholy tinge enhancing its sheen. This was slung over his back as though it were no lighter than a cape and no more than one. The second sword is much thinner, its body blacker than tar and harder than diamond, a slight shine covers it but as he draws it up, jets of lightning dance along it, fearing to go near the fearsome edge.

The beauty is entrancing, breath-catching blue-white electricity flickers and cracks along its surface, silenced only when he sheathed the weapon. His footsteps burnt the ground beneath, leaving a scorched trail – not that anyone would follow him.

Soul, and the rest of the country, knew exactly what would happen to anyone he caught.

The small fishing village of Sakamura 坂村 was once beautiful; fishermen would haul huge catches each day under the open blue sky.

The deep oak wood hulls of the fishing galleys glowed warmly, darkened further by the sea lapping gently at its belly, men and children running along the decks were laughing and joking as birds chirped and seagulls gawked at them, asking for an easy meal.

That was before Soul passed through. That was before his sword's thirst was sated with their blood. That was before the screams echoed across the plains as the silver grass beneath shivered, silent faces shaking in the wind.

That, however, was not the day that gave him fame, or rather infamy. Before his mind fell to the pits. A wickedly bright flash of lightning flits across the sky, the thunderous smack of sound hitting Soul moments later, launched him into his past…

_-The Day Soul fell-_

_Wild lightning bolted across the clouds, the stampeding of thunder rolling up behind. Heavy needles of rain threw themselves against the soldiers' faces, soaking their clothes. The unique dark red grass of the Humishi Plains was crushed underfoot, revealing the smeared, slippery clay beneath._

_The clouds and the Gods looked down on the field of men, torches scattered throughout the swirling masses, the light shaken and dim. General Soul smiled, baring his brilliant white teeth, he snarled at his underlings ordering them to advance. _

_No matter the enemy, he knew that to win, his men must first fear him more than the enemy. His name was not famous, not yet, but after this battle he knew it would be. All the odds were against him: they were outnumbered by thousands, but that was fine – more for him he thought. _

_A second more malicious grin once again spread across his face as he mounted his black-iron clad warhorse. The shimmering stallion named Toride __とりで __reared its huge head, its muscled neck straining, chomping at the bit as white foam frothed around it._

_Heavy, shining black fur grasped the skin, the massive muscles underneath tensed, ready to spring, his massive hooves chewed the ground impatiently, the ground angrily smacking closed afterwards. Their armour was magnificently carved. _

_The dark lacquer moulded into the metal so that it wouldn't chip in the frenzies of war, stunning rubies pierced the front plates forming swirls of red and the sapphires contrasted them immediately, filling the oceans of grey beneath with a light blue glint. _

_The golden sun folded into the cold iron burned brilliantly at his sides, burning into his legs. Deep grey-blue eyes swivel in the horses head, it too knows what awaits them yet something isn't right._

_General Soul's sharp uniform darkens; blues turned to black under the torrential downpour as he makes his way to the front lines, the centre of the battle. _

_He braces slightly as he pulls forth the Greatsword, his prized possession above all else. The rain slips across the saw-like blade, rivulets follow the channels of the mighty weapon. The Samurai part in front of him, not wanting to get trampled then, as if on cue, an overpowering roll of thunder rolled forth, the Stallion and Soul riding the wave of sound into the enemies' ranks. _

_Swathes of enemy drop before him, his skin dyed red until the rain rinses him clean. On and on he powers, seemingly untouchable by the footmen he slaughters._

_The arrows chase him, their pointed fury skittles and clangs off his armour as the bloodlust takes over. He scoffs at the thought of the one-man army that he was, and as this realisation dawned on him, his mind had its light sucked out - swallowed by his actions and himself._

That day was the greatest Victory and the greatest Loss for his nation. Both armies were shattered and dead, lying at his feet, his horse triumphantly snickered, flicking its matted mane across its neck.

Blood covered him; it was in his mouth, in his eyes and over his skin dyeing him a peculiarly bright rose. He chuckled, then charged through the rain screaming at the crows and flew into the river. He danced madly before collapsing into the silky water.

That was when the rider realised quite how much he enjoyed killing.


	2. Chapter 2: Intro Part 2

_-Chapter 2-_

Intro - Part 2

* * *

The next clap of thunder snapped him out of his reverie; he straightened his now soaked suit and stretched his shoulders back, rolled them in their joints. Another flash of lightning reminded Soul of his quest. The place in his dreams he knew was out there. Clicking his tongue, the haggard war horse trotted gently towards him.

The constant running was having a visible effect; the burly rippling muscles were reduced and replaced with the sinews of stress and the once shining coat was now dull from lack of care. Soul mounted his horse tiredly, his leg only just making it over the large beast. A worn, light brown leather saddle caught him and held him in a familiar embrace.

The coarse woolen traveling coat hid Soul's suit as he wrapped it tight, knowing that neither of them would survive another chase as intense as the last. Government Ashigaru were turning up everywhere, not even the most rural taverns were as safe as they once were. He chuckled lightly, a rumble in his chest causing him to cough.

He never thought the state would spend this much money to find him, he didn't believe he was that large an affront to their dignity as he was deemed. Head hung low, hood pulled up and arms drawn close he gently taps the horse and they start lumbering forward. It seems as though time stood still, their mutual exhaustion sapping their strength and sense of time. Uniform stamping snapped them out of their daze, and they both tense, adrenaline began to surge through their veins.

Soul kept moving, hoping against hope that they were just farmers who'd pay them no heed. A cruel god smiles as the signature Ashigaru uniform emerges from the mist of the dark, abandoned road. Toride and Soul do their best to shrink themselves, both begging that they aren't asked for papers. Fortunately the Ashigaru seemed to be in a rush, as jogging past them the group of ten ignored them completely. Their grey cotton cloaks rippled in the blissful wind, the old road softening the clacks of the wooden sandals as the straw hats run over them.

Soul sighed in relief, murmuring to his horse, "That was close, if they had stopped us…" Neither of them needed, nor wanted Soul to finish that sentence. As the softened footsteps faded from hearing, they sunk back into their daze. The soft rocking of the horse lulled Soul deeper into his trance and his dreams returned to the field.

_There is an open field, extending further than the eye can see. Golden grass grows tall, swaying softly under the gentle zephyrs moving amongst them. Surrounding the plains are tall, sleeping mountains. Cold rock and grimy snow are blurred by the haze of dust that lingers over everything. The musty scent of pollen fills the lungs, the glowing mist warming them from the inside as the bright but gentle sun throws soft beams of light through the cloudy ceiling, and the soft clouds laze back on the blue ocean above, wrapping themselves around noise and disturbance, calming the scene._

_A quiet orchestra creaks under the grass, the crickets' ensemble untraceable. A piano sits in the centre, out of place yet belonging more than anything else. The dark mahogany hood is lifted as though it was recently played yet the shine is covered in dust. The keys still are covered by the heavy lid which was locked shut…_

A loud neigh woke Soul up; they were reaching another small village. The road was visibly worn by the ages of use and the name of the village was long forgotten, the mossy sign clinging desperately to its rusty nail.

Perhaps this was where they could lose themselves, thought Soul hopefully, but he soon remembered that this was where the Ashigaru came through recently. As they wandered through the ancient village Soul noticed that the fresh wanted posters still held him in his old uniform: a white, charming smile that drew your eyes to his mouth whilst the deep red eyes pulled you back up; a strong, chiselled jaw held his mouth and then the beautiful scar that tore through it all.

A pang of jealousy rose through him as he saw who and what he used to be.

Soul hadn't realised quite how long he had been staring at the poster, nor had he noticed the slight sneer that he had developed, what he had noticed though was that the villagers had started to stare.

That was what shook him out of his jealous reverie and made him pull the cloak a little tighter. He asked the closest villager where the stable was but was met with only a blank stare as though the peasant hadn't realised he had been spoken too.

Asking again more sharply provoked a nervous, stuttered answer but an answer nonetheless. The stable was housed behind the inn, perhaps not the wisest choice, Soul mused, yet a stable was better than nothing and he slid delicately off his horse whilst keeping firm hold of his saddle. The fresh muck that coated the floor steamed in the cold evening air, Soul held his breath before breathing the musty scent of the familiar woollen cloak.


	3. Chapter 3: The Inn

_-Chapter 3-_

The Inn

* * *

He shivered, the cold night running its fingers over any exposed skin, causing the hairs on his body to stand on end. He hugged himself and carefully made his way towards the front of the inn. It was in relatively good repair, the plaster on the front still white, the dark timber beams without rot and the windows without any damages.

Though most telling of its age was the door, the great lumbering beast that guarded its master's fort was taken from ancient oak, the heavy wood was pale from weathering but still held firm under any pressure, the vertical planks were tight together and braced by metal bands that belted the door across.

Its hinges were the size of two hands and had no difficulty in holding the huge creature up. A large mouth hung against it, the black paint peeled where thousands of hands had grabbed onto it, revealing the dull iron underneath.

Soul's hand reached for the same gaping mouth, the pale, elegant fingers hooking inside and pulling. It didn't budge. Harder, with all his weight he pulled again, and slowly the beast groaned and began to move. Soul now understood why it took so much weight to move it, as the wood itself was lined with metal and several inches thick.

The quiet rumble had alerted most of the customers, and their eyes focused intently on him. They had known he would come to the inn as it was his only option, and now there was absolute silence, the kind that unnerves the soul and causes a cocksure man to look back.

However, Soul, if he noticed it, ignored it. Striding quietly towards the bar he slipped onto the stool and tapped twice on the smooth grey counter. Most had had their fill of not being able to see the character, as he had still not taken off his travelling cloak and so took this as a signal to resume their conversations, knowing that in the morning they would be able to interrogate the inn keeper about this mysterious gentleman.

The barman, a portly fellow who had a charm about him that loosened men's tongues, lumbered over towards Soul with a slight sway in his step. Hoping to pry some tale from Soul, he took his stool with him and asked what his poison would be, Soul murmured and the barman paused before he left and returned with a dusty bottle that caved in at the sides.

The barman's hand rested possessively on the bottle. Aware of its rarity and value, he intended to get as much as he could for it. A single gold coin dropped with a thud to the bar, the eagle engraved on its surface glinted brightly in the dim light. The barman's hand clamped down on it greedily, before biting it and nearly chewing through it.

Amazed he releases the bottle and holds the coin together, beaming at Soul he brought from under the bar a shot glass decorated with a red dragon and slid it towards him. The barman had never seen what was in the bottle thanks to the black glass that sheltered the liquid within.

And apparently Soul had no intention of showing him, as he slipped the glass and bottle in his cloak. Soul dropped some silver coins and talked quietly once more as he asked for a key. The ancient thing was attached to a wooden square that bore nothing but a pentagon marked in a deep blue. As Soul stood the barman did a subtle salute before returning to wiping down the sides.

Soul slowly dragged himself up the stairs, leaning on the railing; he hoped he would like what he found.  
He reached his room at the top and showed the key to a burly man who was perched upon a grotesquely small stool, the discomfort of sitting ensuring his alertness.

The large man blinked a few times before he stretched, huge clicks coming from his spine – the reports echoed in the confined corridor. His fist closed tight around the wood that he checks once more before regarding the hidden face in front of him, the lean figure that looked so feeble.

It was not his place to question, not even to speak, but he had been here so long with not a single visitor, not even when the inn had been bursting was this door ever opened. So now he asked, cautiously "Who are you?"

"Who am I?" Soul scoffed, a curt chuckle burst out. "What business is it of yours?"

Soul raised his head, the hood falling back. His crimson eyes seemed to burn unnaturally bright, his tight lips curled in a sneer bearing his signature sharp grin.

The guard wanted to step back, away from this unholy man who he now recognised with a wrench in his gut. The eyes dimmed and his mouth relaxed "I would appreciate your silence, it would be terrible if something were to happen…" he stated with nonchalance.

Soul gestured to the door. The guard, forgetting he had been holding the key, looked down towards the stressed piece of wood, small splinters angrily bit into his palm.

Soul soon saw the reason for having such a heavy man keep the door, as Soul watched him straining against the entry, the tortured screams of rusted metal cried out. The most secure room in the inn, he had rented it as a safety policy years ago and was glad of his foresight.

Once opened he walked in, surveying what would be his abode for the night at least. With a flick, he removed the cloak, hung it on the door and stretched, grateful to finally be able to stand straight after the long saddle-ride.

He stared at the doorkeeper again "What are you still doing here?" The words had more bite than expected and the poor man trembled before fleeing, closing the door surprisingly quickly behind him.


	4. Chapter 4: Business begins

_-Chapter 4-_

Business begins

* * *

Soul rolled his shoulders, glad to finally be able to relax after the long, hard months he had had to endure. Slumping on the edge of the bed, he removed the haggard suit jacket that still held damp from the recent journey.

Throwing it onto the plain wooden table, he sighed, deflating like a balloon. He knew he couldn't sit there forever though, and it was with this thought of necessity that he went about preparing for bed. He walked towards the door, went slightly to the left and slumped against the wall with a slight thud, barely moving he pulled off his muddied shoes and stumbled off towards the bathroom.

He looked forward to having the first proper shower for a long time; his muscles ached in unison, as though to agree. Soul was unrecognisably hunched, finally able to release his forced, proud posture that he constantly maintained. He collapsed dejectedly on the stool, using his feet he slid his socks off.

The somewhat ornate belt buckle that held his trousers tight took him more time as the buckle's teeth bit into the black material determinedly; Soul's refusal to fully open his eyes only increased the difficulty.

Removing the last articles of clothing, he left them crumpled dejectedly on the floor; he had every intention of leaving those till morning.

The bathroom's oceanic mosaic floor and mirror began to sweat as he opened the hot flow as far as it would go. The boiling water flowed freely from the decorative shower-head, cascading down onto the large sheet of stone below.

The mirror reflected his lean body; every ounce of fat had been burned off from the constant exertions. Ripples pulsed across his pale, lithe body. He shivered in the still cool air; his skin puckered at the few scares his body held, none of them were ever deep enough to truly mar him, curiously though they seemed to flow like ink.

The light danced along him, casting the queer patterned shadows formed by the wispy smoke, steam filled his lungs, and he stood up straight once more then stepped under the scorching waterfall. A slight pink hue seared across his chiselled body, and a contented sigh escaped from his parted lips.

He stayed in for as long as the water still felt like it had been pumped directly from the furnace. As the water finally began to cool, he felt disappointed that his first luxury had come to an end, but soon got over it, it being petty in comparison to his previous sufferings.

Walking out into the main room the steam followed him, its long fingers refusing to release him. He took his time, enjoying the glow he felt de-thaw his bones.

Moving to the dark carved wardrobe, he gripped the rounded handle and pulled firmly, walking into its open embrace and delved inside; choosing another perfectly tailored suit.

It appeared to materialise out of the darkness, it was the deepest black, a perfect vacuum of colour. A powerful aura emanated from it as Soul ran his hand lovingly across it, relishing the feel of the familiar material.

Hanging it back inside he turned and walked to the window, pulling a luxurious fur robe from the stand nearby, he covered himself.

The village was dark; all was silent bar the occasional chirp of a startled bird, the stars flickering like candles on a windy day and a small howl of wind pulled itself through the gently shaking window pane.

Soul shut the curtains on it, silencing the nuisance before getting into bed. Stretching out under the luxurious silk sheets and heavy bear blanket he sighed contentedly again.

He reminisced over the good times, when he didn't need to cower like some peasant, when he was able to walk into an inn and not even have to ask for the best room.

Well as they say all good things come to an end, though perhaps he ought to have exercised more self-control that battle he mused, before quickly shrugging it off and settling down for a good night's sleep.

Morning broke early the next day, and the curtains seemed to laugh as the slight gap allowed a fearsome beam of light to lie across Soul's face. He opened his eyes then slammed them shut.

A sole word croaked out of his throat "Crap." He rolled out of the burning line, and into the bedside table. "Crap"

His head now ached, and as he rolled back the other way he swung his arm out, and knocked the metal jug of water and its platter onto the floor, making a racket.

He swore loudly, his morning ruined, he expressed his feelings by slamming his hand into the wall, the plaster crumbling beneath the impact.

Splashing some freezing water on his face cooled him down, and he composed himself, glad that no one had seen his outburst. Consciously releasing his stress, he slipped into a red silk shirt before he greeted the black suit like an old friend.

In front of the full-length mirror he admired himself, adjusting the pocket square that matched his shirt. He clearly had no intention of riding away from the village just yet and without his uniform he looked completely different.

He pulled a few faces, chose a gentle smile and focused on softening his eyes, allowing his brow to relax. He transformed himself into an open book, someone who innately made you want to trust him.

Today, he had decided, was to be a business day. He gave himself a sly wink and pulled a cheeky grin. He was sure that a certain someone was going to find him.


	5. Chapter 5: 'Princess' Aelia

**A/N:** I want to thank snowbunnie13, ILovedYouThenAndILoveYouNow and GlitterGoat for reviewing. I now understand why authors ask for reviews instead of just alerts (not to say that every alert doesn't make me smile on the inside)! I have no idea whether you guys want longer chapters or what, from what I've seen most people's are about 1000 a chapter, so I guess I'll stick to that. I'm gonna have to really start dedicating time to this, I've been writing this for ages, not that that means I've got much quantity. Well, I will do my best to post at least once a week and if I can't then I'll be sure to explain my self. Also note well that I use British English and prefer latinates, so if you are suspicious of the placements of -ours and Ss where you might think to find Zs then that is why.

_Alors, avec plaisir, mon histoire:_

* * *

_-Chapter 5-_

'Princess' Aelia

* * *

Invigorated, he pulled the heavy door with ease, tipping his head to the startled doorman before gesturing to him to shut the door.

He sped down the stairs with ease, his feet moving so quickly as if to imitate a light drum roll down the stairs, casually sliding himself up to the bar before realising he had left his drink in his room. "No matter" he thought.

He motioned for the barman and explained the situation. The barman hurriedly carried out his request, returning moments later with the ornate glass and dusty bottle. A malicious grin ruled over Soul's face as he greedily snatched the bottle from the barman, as he left the bar he grabbed the cup and slipped it into his left pocket.

He walked calmly towards the corner booth, sliding the bottle onto the black-marble capped table as he slipped in beside it, ready to wait for as long as need be. He examined the bottle: its black and red lacquer top glinting, the dull crimson wax dripping down the neck unbroken and dust covered – a testament to its fortitude; embossed above the aged label are the words _'Invitant nos destromus'_ their indentions distorting the light as the brown label below carried there an ornate font not dissimilar to the work of medieval monks; the thick lettering in thick tar-like ink ending in sharp flicks, with flourishes wrapping themselves throughout, intertwined with name _spiritus vitae_.

Slicing a wickedly sharp dagger around the neck, he broke the seal - pulling the frosted glass stopper out. He placed the glass next to it, and began to pour. The light golden liquid glided into the glass, glinting in the unsteady candlelight.

The movement brought to life the scarlet creature that winked and pulled itself around the delicate glass, the outlined wings stretching wide and high, the jaw open with the small slivers of teeth visible. Soul gently rolled the vessel between his hands, slowly warming it. His mouth tingled in anticipation.

Lifting the glass to his lips, the vapours oozed almost transparently up from the glass; they distorted the air like liquid, prickling his nose and catching in his throat. He repressed the urge to cough, and instead breathed more deeply, his lungs tingling as the fumes came into contact with them.

A fresh breeze twined itself around the legs of the patrons, waking them from the cosy doze that was soothed into existence by the gently burning fire.

As the door closed, Soul looked up, bright eyed and sharp. The glass had been refilled twice as the fire had shrunk, no longer bathing the area with the same ferocity of heat as it had been.

The drink had compensated well for that, a pleasant burning permeated his innards, accumulated like a pile of embers in his stomach.

Stopping the bottle, he finished the glass, and stretched back, sliding his legs further underneath the table with a hiss. The slow expulsion of fiery air had caught the entrant's eye. She was certain that the man who knew what had happened in Sakamura had come here and she was determined to find out.

Staunchly striding toward the inn-keep, she began to demand the whereabouts of the destitute gentleman who had ridden in on a black stallion.

Moreover, as Toride was indeed minding his own within the stable, she was certain he was staying here. Soul regarded the woman from a distance, doing his best to become part of the shadows.

He took in what he could from her covered appearance. She wore a long, black, concealing coat that parted at her waist below the silvered belt-fasten. The coat was made of a material that shed water like a duck, but looked like felt – evidently she came from a background of some wealth - though the lack of polish on her boots hinted at the position she was in now.

The once beaming leather was now dull, covered in scuffs and scratches. Lower down the boots was a generous application of mud that clung tight, impeding her somewhat and leaving a dirty signature behind.

The trail displeased Soul, as sat at the door was a large coarse mat specifically there to keep the inn clean.

He deduced that she was somewhat blinded by her immediate wants. The weather outside directly contrasted the present atmosphere, its unprejudiced displeasure showed itself by having plastering the woman's hair to her scalp, though the style she now wore it in was rather attractive, the loose dark curls falling to her left shoulder as she had begun to warm and dry in the relatively tropic atmosphere.

Her nose was neatly placed, her eyes dark and enticing were almost perfectly proportioned, and her mouth partly opened - presumably attempting to seduce the inn-keep, the red tongue slowly making its way around her lips.

Soul chuckled lightly, knowing how futile her attempt would be – he paid the man much too well for him to need to worry about the paltry temptress. Alas his expression of humour was short-lived – the quiet outburst having shattered his camouflage, and with a glare she bore down towards him, as though stomping her feet would do anything.

He turned his head only slightly, most of what had just transpired he had gathered from his peripheral. She was somewhat irked; and it showed in her greeting  
"What the hell are you laughing at, you haughty piece of crap"

"And here I was thinking I looked rather fetching in this suit"

His response clearly laced with sarcasm - Soul intended to provoke her, he had found anger often showed the true colours and capacities of an individual.

"Don't talk to me like that!" she retorted, outraged.  
"Oh I do so beg your forgiveness, princess …?" He continued in his previous tone and left a pause, waiting for her to fill the gap.

She stared at him with a look of contempt before realising what a fool she had made of herself in front of someone she now had the time to really see. Soul had still not faced her, whether it was laziness or a lack of care he had yet to decide, it could always be that he felt cooler ignoring her, he admitted to himself.

She had swallowed his character and utterly believed it was the truth. The loud conversation had caught the ears of those still sober enough to stay awake at such a late hour and he was aware that he must now watch his words, all it took was a slip of the tongue and he would have to be on the move sooner than he would like.

He rotated his head slightly more, the tips of white hair covered the top of his eyes, similar to stalactites, as they looked towards her. He was still waiting for a response.

"Aelia, my name is Aelia. And I'm not a princess."

* * *

A/N: Okay about that OC, don't worry, hang in there, she isn't going to be a major character but she is necessary for the character exploration/development (for the reader) as far as Soul goes. Give it a couple chapters, you'll survive :p Also, I still have college on top of this so bear with me if the chapters are a bit short or late (I'll do my best to keep updating, but my grades are (sorry to say) rather important, wouldn't you agree?)


	6. Chapter 6: A dangerous game

**A/N:** By the way there is symbolism and so on throughout the chapters, and some much more subtle wording (if you spot it, it's there on purpose) so if you want a tray of virtual cookies, and a sentence of adoration on my profile, pm me anything you've spotted, or analysed with any interest/ in any detail, it'll make my day to have you pick up on them! Also, look forward to chapter 7, it'll be nice and longish (emphasis on the -ish) ^.^ Heck, let's learn some french while we're at it! If you don't know what voice to read the story in, try a smug aristocratic one. Oh jeez and please, if you have any ideas or any thoughts as to where this might go, or what might be cool, please for the love of god PM me them, at the moment I only have a location where Soul is heading and I have no idea where the journey in between will take him.

_Allons-y!_

* * *

_-Chapter_ 6-

A dangerous game

* * *

"Aelia, my name is Aelia. And I'm not a princess."

"I know, look at your shoes." He expressed his displeasure pointedly.

A red blush spread up her slim, pale neck and flooded into her cheeks, flooding up over the pale skin and pulsing veins, if it was possible it would have dried her hair, so hot did the blush feel to her. She walked briskly, the boots sftly knocking against the floor to the mat and scraped off the majority of the muck, _she looked like a schoolgirl that had been told off by her favourite teacher Soul thought_, before she returned to his table, silently asking to sit with him.

After mentally undressing him as much as she could, as she had assumed he had done to her, her eyes were drawn to the exquisite bottle sitting on the table and the fragile glass that Soul's finger was seductively tracing the sharp lip of, before it paused, clinked the glass with its nail and gestured upwards.

"I'm up here" Soul smiled cheekily, chastising himself for forgetting the part he was supposed to be playing - the 'cool' guy. He wasn't going to tell her his name – no that would be too easy, it would be more entertaining and useful for him to play her as much as he could; these impish thoughts overwhelmed and consumed any feelings of remorse, locking them away in the dark room that none enter for fear of what lay inside. Some doors are better kept shut, bolted, guarded and sealed for ever he belived in this case.

The light ringing from the reverberating glass caused what little liquid that had pooled in the bottom to dance, he childishly pinged it again, gauging her reaction while watching the split-second figurines in the glass. Nothing changed on her beautiful mask apart from her brow furrowing slightly as she took the opportunity she thought she had to read his expression that was by no means clear.

In fact his face only confused her more, the smallest smirk pulled at the right corner of his mouth yet his eyes remained their deep serene crimson. He looked up at her, his face holding the same position like a statue, then winked, shattering the trance.

"So what is it you want?" He chuckled lightly, the baritone swelled through and over her.  
"I'm looking for someone…" she trailed off, her eyes cast down and to the right, like she feared him, though no fear swam through her veins.  
"Oh yes? And what would this someone look like?" He was careful to choose his words, not wanting to give her any reason to suspect him.

"Um" She bit her lip "He had white hair, like yours, but much spikier. He was lean and haggard, and I am certain he was impoverished so he must have stolen his horse…"

"Any particular reason you're following him?" He changed the subject from his looks to something else, not wanting to risk his identification, wishing he could make a joke at her playing detective.

She paused again "My entire life – family, friends and property – was in a village that was destroyed as I was out on the rocks, when I came back I saw him riding his horse away. I wanted to know what had happened, but I was too afraid to ask him"

"So you followed him" Soul cut in "Presumably non-stop by the state of you" The pale indigo bags that had formed under her eyes detracted from their dark ochre irsis, which swam in whites so bright they made the moon jealous and the gauntness in her face that pronounced the regal cheek-bones aginst the smooth skin.

She nodded in concurrence "He travelled so fast, and never seemed to need to eat. But he always slowed down near the Ashigaru, to not arouse suspicion I guess… That is what proves to me that he stole the horse, but I still want to know what happened."

"Aha…" Soul's mouth pursed as he reached over and drew the bottle close, the bottle glided across the table without sound before he twisted the cork out and silently refilled his glass, not letting even a drop of the precious golden liquid spill.

"Why did you choose to sit here? Do you think I'm equal to you?" He tried to provoke her somewhat, and this blatant insult was only the start.

"I chose to sit with you because you looked civil…" She hesitantly explained, not quite believing what she was hearing and too shocked to react.  
"That's because I am. You, however, are not. You still wear your coat, you have poor manners and besides, you are of no real importance. So tell me, why should I waste my time with you?" The brazen cocky voice was sure to get a reaction.

"You absolute pig! You don't know me at all yet would judge me on first appearance? Who do you think you are, because I'll tell you now, you're just a piece of scum in a crappy black suit who shouldn't be let to live!" She kept her voice relatively calm but the cold waver in her voice still came across empassioned.

Soul passively regarded her, and decided that now he had her truly believing what he wanted her to, he might as well see how easily she was further manipulated… He changed expression, or rather made one as his previous expression was just above a deadpan.

"That's a fair point you make, perhaps I was too unfair. You'll forgive me?" A complete U-turn in in attitude. God, he was enjoying this dangerous game much too much.

"Why the hell should I?"

"Because it would be worth your time." Soul stated matter-of-factly as he looked away. She wouldn't have a choice but to go along with it.

The lack of choice left a bitter taste in her mouth, clearly he had something to offer her, and realised perhaps it would be worth her time to forgive him, or at least pretend to.

Aelia considered once again why exactly it was she was doing this, when she knew she could find out whom she was following by her own efforts.

Soul saw all this run through her head, like the flash of green at a sunset it went through her mind for the quickest of moments, but a moment was all it took.

He knew how suspicious Aelia was, and how he would have to treat her with the caution given only to those whose unpredictability and power would give fright to even the sturdiest of men._ 'Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, I'm going to have to do something about her anyways...'_

The first thought would be to remove her permanently, but it being such a small village would make it hard to hide her body. Most of the important people were on his payroll - what little there was left to give, but they would not be able to cover such a noticeable crime from the commoners.

Soul grimaced inwardly as he realised he would have to put up with this brat for longer than he wanted. As fun as the dance he now took part it in was, he needed an exit strategy.


	7. Chapter 7: Decisions

**A/N: **Okay so it was suggested I try Soul's POV, so I did. I hope it doesn't turn out too terribly. I haven't been able to put much time in lately due to coursework, which I really should be doing now instead of writing this… Screw it. Please review and tell me where I need to improve, because I know certainly the POV at least felt a bit iffy. Well, enjoy _mes amis._

* * *

_-Chapter 7-_

Decisions

* * *

"Please, excuse me" he smiled slightly at her as he left the booth and sidled over to the bartender. His broad shoulders were pulled slightly back, making his tailored suit fit his form more closely than it already did, the stretch revealing more of the scarlet shirt.

His casual gait belied the small fear that churned at the back of his mind, his thought of ensuring that Toride was back to full strength as soon as possible. Soul had never been one to believe in luck, and so did all in his power to prepare for any eventuality.

Aelia listened intently, leaning forward and twisting her head, trying to catch what he was saying. It was clear to her now that the man she was with wasn't just a smartly dressed individual, evidently he seemed to be the one in power. She mused upon this as the bartender nodded his head formally and retreated to the stables.

A muffled "Toride" drifted its way back into the inn, making its way to her ears before the door slammed behind the man, causing her to involuntarily jump.

Her nerves were wound tighter still as Soul approached her again, just who was he?

Soul had managed to slide in without her noticing for when he spoke his voice came from the right of her, indicating his new position.

"So, Aelia, why do you need to know what happened at…?" He left the end open purposely, insuring that his perfect account of what happened, seeing as it was by his hand, not be revealed.

"Sakamura" She finished for him "I want to find whoever did it, no matter how strong they are, I will find them, and, and…" trailing off, she was unable to finish.

"And what Aelia? You don't seem the type to kill, nor do you look like you've ever had a hard life, so what are you going to do when you find them? Question them? Cry and hope they don't kill you too?" he mocked quietly, gazing forlornly at the empty glass.

"I… I can kill" she hesitantly murmured, her soft lips barely parted "Everyone can kill"

"Everyone yes, but anyone? No. I've seen enough to know that only certain types of people can kill, others would rather be killed." Soul scoffed, pulling his eyes up to her, his head sinking back.

"What do you mean, 'You've seen enough'" Her eyes narrowed slightly, picking up on what he said "Just who exactly are you? I don't even know your name yet here I am confessing myself to you"

Shit, thought Soul. Shit shit shit. He was going to have to recover quickly from this; otherwise he knew that his rest would be cut short. Running his fingers carefully through his unique hair, he played a card, hoping it would work.

"My name is Kato, I am an officer of his majesty's army and am currently on break"

What he said was close enough to the truth that he had no difficulty in letting the lie slip out silkily. He stopped himself tensing in anticipation of her response, knowing that in the slim fitting suit she would notice immediately.

Aelia's eyes widened slightly, kicking herself for not realising sooner. No wonder the barkeep treated him with such deference.

Soul, seeing her pause to process what he had just said, took his time to look at her once more.

She had removed the long coat, revealing her tightly fitted clothes, her shirt was a soft material, brushed cotton he ventured, the grey was constantly vacillating from shining to dull, creating a show that threatened to entrance him. He looked over her chest, where the material stretched more tightly against her.

The patch over her heart was the only place that had a steady but faint beat, flashing every few seconds. He cursed the table for hiding the smooth long legs he knew he'd wanted to run his tongue up.

Her hair, having had the time to dry now fell lusciously to her shoulders, its gentle curls flowing around her. Her lips were a deep pink, and perfectly defined; her skin like marble and her eyes...

Aelia started, noticing that Soul was staring directly into her eyes. She stared back, not knowing what to do, his eyes pulled her in, their deep twisted fire surrounding and entering her chest. Her heart started beating faster and faster until she realised it was her turn to speak.

She swallowed, embarrassingly loudly she thought.

"Sorry, I should have known..." A second blush crept up from her chest, its wide berth flowing over and around her neck before finally reaching her face. Soul's eyes responsively followed the movement, she lifted up a delicate arm, the fingers long and smooth - no doubt she spent every night carefully manicuring them. Placing her hand against the fiercely burning cheek, she relished the cool touch but it was nonetheless a futile attempt to curtail the effects of her natural response.

Soul's tongue snaked unconsciously over his lips, moistening them ever so slightly. What the fuck was he doing, imagining inviting her up to his room, her accepting and NO. He slammed the brakes on that train of thought so hard the shining wheels spewed torrents of sparks and the carriages tipped over landing in a crash only possible in the realm of imagination.

But it was too late, she had noticed, and her blush only burned hotter as a result - something Aelia wouldn't have thought possible, considering how fierce it was already.

She wondered what would happen now; her brain was overloaded and had ceased operations so she hoped that Soul would realise and lead the way.

And he did, he cleared his throat quietly and slid his palm along the back of his neck. The soft, deep rumble seemed to awaken her mind and she realised he was still staring into her eyes.

"It's late, do you have a place to stay?" she hesitated in her non-committal response "Mmm…"

"Don't worry I'll sort it out" Soul removed himself, his biceps tensed under the suit as he lifted himself off the leather seat, pulling the suit taught against him.

Reaching the bar he leaned over and asked about a spare room, the innkeeper was clearly disgruntled, annoyed at the late hour he'd been kept up to, but nodded and thrust an old rusted key at Soul who instead of taking it simply whispered further somethings into his ear.

The blood drained from the innkeeper's face, the puckered scars on his face pulled through the ghostly skin like rough mountains which became even more obvious on his chubby face. Eyes wide, nostrils flaring, he presented the key again most humbly.

Soul accepted and turned away, flicking the key towards her as he approached. The small rusted trinket swirled gracefully in the air, slowing nearly to a stop as it reached its peak, before increasing in velocity again. She reflexively caught it.

Sweeping his bottle and glass off the table he told her her room number and walked off, dropping the conversation without second thought., not even ending it formally.

His slightly pointed black leather shoes clicked softly against the wood-brick floor, they were lined with red stitching, and every step he took up the antiquated steps showed the bright string binding the sole tight together.

As he went around the corner he pondered on the woman he just met. Not really what he had been expecting but a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

The sleepy giant at his door groaned as he rose readying himself to open the door for the approaching 'General'.

The lumbering beast stumbled against the door, suffering from the head rush one usually would have after rising from deep slumber.

The seemingly clumsy movements did not cease however as his brain switched to auto-pilot, going through the movements regardless of conscious capacity.

Soul skilfully twisted into his room, manoeuvring through the small gap between the door and the wall. With a thankful sigh the door slotted back into position and the doorman could be heard softly making his own way home.

~Soul POV~

'Ah shit, what am I supposed to do with her.' I hadn't felt this confusion before; I had always followed the Imp, who'd promised me greatness beyond belief. Kill them all it had said.

Kill.  
Them.  
All.

And so I had.

'You know what you **have** to do, who cares what you're **supposed** to do' the imp hissed quietly from the dark room that had no real place in my mind.

'You want me to kill her, don't you.'

'If that is what needs to be done, there is no debate. On the way in there is a cliff, take her on a date, walk along the edge and when she isn't looking - push her. They'll believe she fell, and there won't be any need to hide the body. She will be forgotten quickly, she's not from here.' The Imp's voice seductively wound around Soul's conscience, throttling it.

Struggling, it fought back, throwing off the suffocating tendrils.

'You need to change Soul, else you are sure to be found. Why keep running, they will never forget, not after what you did!' _  
_

_The coppery taste filled my mouth, stained my teeth and dyed my eyes. Screams and clashes cut irregularly into the memory. The pounding rain against my armour splashed back against my face, the cold needles pinching and cutting my skin. Red warmth splashed onto me, thawing the chill away as my arm swung again and again and again and again._

Hysteric laughing filled my mind, the manic Imp's grin stretched, wrapping around its red face, rolling off and flying around the inky darkness. God I feel sick.

'Look at you! You useless scum, boo hoo go back to your mummy, oh wait she's dead!' The Imp continued giggling manically, snorting as though he'd never heard of anything funnier.

'Stop. Stop it, please.'

'Stooop, stop it pweease' The Imp snidely mimicked. 'You're weakening Soul, let me help you'

'Fine. For fuck's sake, fine. I give up' _What the hell am I doing arguing with myself._

'You're not arguing, we've made the decision to kill the follower. We are doing it tomorrow. Repeat after me' The Imp's imperious tone resonated around my mind.

'We are doing it tomorrow.'

'Gooood, I'll see you around, Soul Eater Evans' With a final fading cackle he disappeared, a shudder pulled itself out of me. _Thank god._

Argh, this is ridiculous. I need out. I need… What the hell do I need? The aphotic atmosphere in my mind seemed to swallow any thought I had, forcing me into the unfeeling dream of the Wheatfield. The piano. My sanctuary. My **only** sanctuary.

* * *

**A/N: **There's gonna be some action coming up, I've started writing the scene and finally I'm going to get more characters involved! Well, just one for now, but I definitely will sometime in the future, get more characters haha p.s for every review you save a puppy ;p


	8. Chapter 8: A partner to play with

**A/N: **I think it'd probably be good if I started introducing some familiar faces ^^  
Enjoy!

* * *

_-Chapter 8-_

A partner to play with

* * *

I felt the soft bed sheets wrapped gently around me, their frictionless bodies hugged my chest closely. Twisting around I awoke, an inky dark sea swelled soporifically around the bed.

It was darkness deeper than the natural night, a more solid thing that had a weightless mass.

A single explosion of thunder rolled throughout the room, making me flinch slightly, yet the heavy downpour did not come to rattle on the windows, nor did the blinding flash of lightning that one would expect come from outside, instead it exploded from gap between the blade-handle and sheath of the thin sword that lay propped up against the bedside wall.

A sickening feeling grew in the pit of my stomach like an ever expanding ball of lead, that blade hadn't done that since the last time _it_ was here.

Quickly reaching for it, I grasped the familiar handle, its icy grip soothed me, it hissed as the dark weapon revealed itself, the normally cold lightning running up and down the blade acted panicked, it sped back and forth so bright and fast I had to squint.

Sitting up, my heart-rate started to increase again, beating harder and harder, faster and faster. The soft sheets slid off of me, pooling around my waist.

The cool air replaced the warmth with a fresh embrace, its smooth hands caressed the scar that ran down my chest and sent a small shiver down my spine.

The cloud of fluid blackness snuck up and around my bed, it's translucent tendrils slithering towards me, a hoarse breath came from under the bed and without a second thought I drove the sword downwards and into the space between my legs, I felt it go through the floor-boards and lodge in the ceiling below.

I panted at the massive burst of energy I'd had to exert so soon after waking, my heart now beat thunderously, like a fist pounding outwards from my chest at a hundred miles an hour.

I coughed from the action as the small arms that had been making their way towards me retracted violently.

A disconcerting vibration gently travelled up the blade and into my hands. I could only imagine the beast was pulling itself through the sword, slicing through its own body as it emerged into the room, sucking the light away from where it stood, hiding itself in its own shadow.

I wrenched the sword out of the bed and the floor.

"Show yourself, coward!" I yelled to reassure my own trembling arms. I slid out the side of my bed, keeping the sword raised towards the apparition.

"Very well, General Evans" It mocked devilishly. My blade's power snapped like a whip as it identified the foe.

The only solid parts of the beast that emerged from the shadow were the skeletal white hands that reached down by its sides, a bony mask that held the cracks of millennia and a sort of cloaked body that had no defined shape*. Its empty voice sucked into my ears "I've found you, Soul Eater Evans"

"NO!" I yelled at the space "You won't take me, you cannot!" That I could manage to say that to this particular beast was one thing; that I said it even though it petrified me was another.

Where its head should have been slowly tilted to the left, the holes in the mask it wore burned holes into me, it felt like someone was pouring molten metal into my eyes. I blinked and in that short time it rushed towards me.

Slicing downwards from hard-won reflexes, the blade screamed through the air, and the bony hands of the creature emitted an ungodly boom of sound as they collided with the sword.

It had stopped my blade, I looked at its hands, and the grey-cream bones holding the blade were splintering slightly against the force, the lightning still zooming around manically. Slowly the hands began to clasp and curl around the blade, so I yanked back to prevent it from taking my only defence.

"You still think you can beat me, Soul Eater Evans?"

"There's no way I'm dying today, or yielding to the Government" I was shaken but still defiant.

"Well then, let's dance. If you put up a good fight I might even give you a choice…" It trailed off.

_A choice? It worked solely and terrifyingly loyally for the Government; why would it even offer a possibility… unless there was something for it to gain… I'd better last this fight…_

It came at me again; its right hand bore down fast aiming for my neck. Flicking the sword across, I twisted, blocking it. I tried to pull back but it had clenched its hand around my blade. Panicking I roared as I put every effort to retrieve my blade.

A smug chuckle riled me as it released my blade once more.

"Quit playing you bastard!" Sweat snuck down the side of my face and dripped onto my heaving chest, the small refreshing drop existing but for a second 'til it evaporated away.

I threw myself at it, furiously slashing and every time it blocked I would pull back and strike again, spinning my body – swinging for its lower torso, slamming against its hand,

pulling back;

Down stroke to its head, blocked;

Stab to the chest, caught;

Slash to his right side, countered;

It throws my sword back with such force it pulls against my shoulder as the blade rotates up, nearly out of my white-knuckle grip, it takes all I have to stop the blade slamming into my back.

I pant, my throat is drying up, a hacking cough makes me want to vomit.

"Are you done so soon?" It doesn't even sound warmed up. _How the hell am I supposed to win? _

_**You aren't you fool**_ The imp chirps up, as his fate lies with mine _**You have to give him a good show, prove to him that you are worthy of pause, that you are powerful. Let me help you, Soul. **_

_Him…? _Forgetting the implication I respond to the Imp _No! Not again, there must be another way!_ I disregard the cretin and return to the thing in front of me.

"You think you can beat me, Shinigama, one of the 8 Great Warriors, a Death God, and the one who sealed Asura for an eternity?" He enquired, his voice sucked more energy from me.

I charged at him, my sword held close, and thrust it forth into his belly, he coughed as though to draw attention. As I went to pull my sword out the lightning that ran over the blade disappeared into the darkness. A small flash went through Shinigama's body, for only the smallest of split-seconds. Shocked I threw myself backwards, the sword landing with me on the floor a few metres away. The once incredible power that lived in the blade was so reduced that only a few sparks jumped about the handle.

"Wha…What did you do?" _How could he do that?_

"Those souls you had bound to the sword were the only thing giving you the power to stop me for any time, Soul, and they tasted… Scared… You took them at the Humishi Massacre, didn't you?"

_I don't know… Did I? _

_**Yes, we did; what did you think we had to kill them all for; it was to get enough power to become undefeatable. I hadn't counted on you doing something so unbelievably STUPID as to STAB THE SHINIGAMA! **_The Imp shrieked at the end _**I said give him a show you fool, not actually try and kill him! **_

_I thought he would block it…_

_**I am at a loss for words. How the hell am I supposed to live now? He's probably going to kill us.**_

_What about ... _Soul couldn't bring himself to even think it.

_**So now you want it huh? Ha. Very well, make a dash for the Greatsword by the door when you can.**_

The Imp was serious, knowing that if he couldn't save them then he would die too.

I mentally nodded, then did the same physically.

"They've named it then, d' you reckon it'll be my namesake?" I asked, hoping to distract him. It worked, as he looked up to the ceiling in mock-wonder I scrambled towards the door, seizing the massive weapon and scrambling to my knees.

The Imp grew explosively, filling my mind before peeling out of its skin, the crimson black sludge pouring torrentially from his eyes, mouth, ears, nose until the skin burst and the blood went everywhere. It flooded into my veins; I could feel it thick and hideously powerful.

The Shinigama noticed the sudden demonic aura that emanated from him, the new fire that burned out of his eyes and surrounded his soul.

Raising an eyebrow quizzically, it watched him as he ferociously pulled the metal behemoth forward; it was a feat that it didn't throw him off balance. Soul's white hair was defying gravity, the spikes sharp and pointed, yet still moving fluidly in the air.

A purple tinge darkened his pale skin, the veins showing as dark lines as they bulged under his skin. His breathing became coarse and raw; his sharp teeth were bared, like a wolf.

Shinigama seemed unprepared so I took the chance, charging at him once more. The sword's jagged teeth slammed forward, the great weight knocking him backwards.

"Fine, you want to play? I'll play" I rasped coldly.

The blade's sonorous hum filled the room as it was once again swung. This time the potent liquid I felt in my veins burned hotter as its power seeped into me. I exhaled sharply as it collided so as to increase the force. It worked; Shinigama recoiled, frowning with surprise at the sudden recovery and great formidability that Soul now possessed. Once more we duelled:

Hard uppercut with the teeth, blocked;

Side-slam with the flat of the blade, dodged;

Jab to the rib area, Shinigama's hands clapped onto the blade, slowly I forced the blade inwards, the difficulty increasing exponentially, the sharp bones scraping, screeching sharply against the metal, catching in the decorative ridges. Every single muscle in my body strained forward, my lungs were on fire, my body filling my skin tightly as my blood pressure increased. My heart beat like a galloping horse, the heavy thumping against the inside of my chest one of the few things I could hear above the roaring in my ears and the claustrophobic silence of the room.

"The plot thickens" Shinigama breathed; throwing off the sword and twisting in towards me, intending to get a hit to my neck so to finish the fight and me.

"No you don't!" I pulled the sword up in front of me, the great breadth absorbing the entirety of the blow and shielding my body from harm. Shinigama hissed, "Good move, but now you're on the back-foot"

_And I can't see him..._

The blows against the sword came so fast and frequent that it sounded like one consistent ring, my arms behind constantly juddering against it, absorbing what they could. Shinigama was buying some time, trying to tire me, I knew; so I kicked the bottom of the sword up with what strength that could be mustered. It worked, he jumped backwards. "Now who's on the back foot?" I teased.

The duel was lasting too long, we both knew it would be a stalemate; each's power was not great enough to overcome the defence of the other.

But we had to continue regardless, I was somewhat surprised that no one had heard the enormous racket that was being made, presumably the thick walls were enough to muffle the cacophony.

"En guardes, mon ami." I taunted him before we flew black into the dangerous dance, each of us gliding on the edge of a razor, one wrong foot and the fight would be over.

But that never came and after the song had ended we paused again. My forearms swollen, my back, chest, biceps and triceps burning, my legs leaden.

I had never felt so relieved as when Shinigama straightened up and brushed himself down. "You're good, but fortunate that we aren't on my land."

I pulled myself upright once more, each vertebra in my spine clicked in sequence;

_God that felt good_

I could feel the Imp's hold over me receding, but knew that after that he was much stronger than before, I'd had to let him have complete control over me, and wished I could regret it but the quasi-victory that we had won over-rode whatever guilt I had.

"I believe you were to give me a choice..." I reminded Shinigama.

"I hadn't believed you were actually going to put up such a fight, but I am honour-bound to my word, very well General Soul Eater Evans, I will give you your choice"

* * *

**A/N: For the purpose of this tale, Shinigama is not rooted to Death City though his power does lie there, in fact his is a complex role, as you will find out in the future. **

*** Looks like a cross between : ** images?q=tbn:-4pzpBGmvADOg  
Shinigama-sama by shinobi974samuel **and ** images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSJEA4H3w- **and like the Dementors from the Harry Potters.**


	9. Chapter 9: Running away

Un petit histoire. Well more of a backstory chapter. Sorry for it being so short, I genuinely haven't had as much time as I usually would to work on the story, and I'm literally going week by week with the chapters, I have none to spare but(!) summer soon! So I will definitely be updating every week if not more often :D though next week I'm on a DofE expedition to wales so it's unlikely that I can update. Thanks massively to you guys for leavimg reviews. They are what keep me going. Especially those who have PMed me ideas and more :), But enough with the chatter!

* * *

_-Chapter 9-_

Running away

* * *

Dry summer thunder echoes into the boy's ears, its dull booms rolling in as his heart beat. Tall shining wheatgrass waves softly tickling his legs, the gorgeous patterns of light reflecting like waves off the ocean in front of him. A large beetle flies loudly in front of him, the crackle of its wing against its shell interrupting the harmony. Childish laughter follows disembodied; the light sound contrasted the storm on the horizon. The fiery sun still smiled down on them, bathing the area with its friendly rays, gently toasting everything, reddening skin and making heat waves. The boy stands stock still, every part of him staring into the distance, into the ominous clouds. Soft breezes ruffle the pale hair, soothingly until a wild gust of air slams into him, its sudden thump knocking him a step back, in that breeze was the sound of horses and men and the sharp clangs of plate armour.

A soft voice called out to him, his mother saw the storm but knew not what it hid.

"Come inside my love, there's a storm swelling" the small child obeyed, dutifully he ran into his mother's embrace. He mumbled into his mum's ear "Mummy it's not a real storm"

The gentile woman rubbed his back, soothing him "Come now dear, don't be silly"

"There were neighs and shouts and clangs in the wind, it's not a storm of rain mummy"

The soft woman tensed; she had hoped, hoped so hard that the war wouldn't come to their stead, but it had, thank god her child had heard. Standing up briskly she clutched the kid's small hand, enveloping it "Come, quickly now."

She shouted out to the golden stone building. It rose out of the ground, two stories of the yellow rocks stacked traditionally upwards, the porous and weather beaten skin only added to the rustic beauty. Small, light turquoise shutters opened themselves to the day, glowing brightly in the light which flooded into the rooms, the roman tiling on the roof exuded rouge beauty, the hands of the clay tiles interlinked. It was truly a _maison ancienne._

"Spirit!" The lady called out to her friend.

An over-excited voice burst out of the dark garage, as well as a huge labrador-pitbull cross, the slobbering jaw open in a wide smile. The heavy paw prints patted the ground as the dog jogged out to them. The double doors swung outwards dramatically and the red-haired man skipped gleefully out like an actor on stage, until he saw her face. He caught himself, something was wrong,

"Spirit, take Soul, take him away, fast and far, take both the horses, ride them into the ground if you have to, you have to keep him safe"

As she said the last word tears pushed into her eyes, her voice cracked; she turned to Soul, kneeling on the ground. "I love you Soul, I love you so so much" her breath was catching each word now. She was trying so hard to be strong for him. Hugging him closely, tightly, breathing him in, deeply. "I love you too mummy" The boy was confused. Why was she so upset? Why did she tell Spirit to take both their horses? Why wasn't she coming too?

Spirit was pale, his face stony and cold, drained of blood. The lady now embraced Spirit "Thank-you Spirit, thank-you. Explain to Soul once you are away, okay?"

Spirit nodded, "You've been so kind to me over the years, and never did you let me repay you for your hospitality, I owe you so much..."

"And with this I will owe you. Keep him safe for me Spirit"

"Soul! Let's go for a ride, we have to get some shopping!" The child was thoroughly confused, why was mummy crying just because they needed more groceries?

Spirit lifted the little boy onto the grey flecked stallion, "Good-bye Yume" Spirit looked back, before reaching over and tying the spare horse's rein to their own. "Bye Mummy! I'll bring you back some nice flowers!" he waved back, his childish grin tearing the mother's strength down

"Okay sweetie, I love you" Spirit clicked his tongue and the horses began to walk away, a few gentle kicks more and soon they were galloping, the lady and the home disappearing in a cloud of yellow dust.

Yume's pale hair blew in the wind as she tried to continue as normal, walking into the garden with an apron and a basket; she began to gently pluck the tomatoes off the climbing plants. The thunder was louder now, closer. The sun burnt less strongly, and its reach was not as far nor as close. Clouds began to mar the pale sky and the more regular pace of the approaching force could be heard. The grass was short here, the deep green breaking the palette of the surrounding fields, the short blades swept against her slippers as she walked around. Returning to the kitchen, she emptied the basket into the sink, filling it with cold water she returned to the garden. The apples were ready too; she could make some nice apple sauce. She thought sadly, Soul loved her apple sauce... plucking a few she placed them in her basket. Doing every mundane task she could think of to keep her mind busy she didn't notice the now very close force. In her daze she had laid the table for three, and cooked for three, and had now served for three. She stopped, and saw what she had done. An overwhelming depression pushed her down onto the floor, pushed more tears into her eyes, pushed sobs into her chest. Rivulets slipped down her cheeks. The three steaming plates of food passively gave off aromas to make your mouth water. A filet-mignon each she had cooked, usually reserved for special occasion, the tender meats expensive. A side of creamy mashed potato lay next to it, and a head of broccoli lay on each, draped with thick gravy. Through the open doorway, in front of which she sat, she could see the first men on their horses, their evil grins and once they saw the smoke from the chimney they spurred their horses on.

White foam frothed forth from the flecked stallion. Its eyes bulged at the forced gallop it had held for the last hours. The horse next to them too was tired, though it had had no one to carry.

"Spirit, wasn't the grocers back there" he inquired uncertainly.

"Change of plans, we're going to visit some friends" Spirit quickly replied, not slowing their pace.

"Why are we going so fast? It's not good for the horses, look how he's suffering" the concerned tone touched a string in Spirit's heart, he wanted to slow down so badly, but he had given Yume his word, he had to do as Yume asked, he owed her so much after how she cared for him though he was just some stranger who had wandered drunkenly to her barn where she'd found him the morning after..

"Be quiet Soul!" Spirit shouted forward into the wind. He knew just as well Yume's horse wasn't going to last much longer, and just as that thought made its home in his mind, the horse collapsed. The front legs crumpled, catapulting all of them forward, the rein to the other horse snapped but the animal quickly returned after slowing down. Spirit was in a bad way, he had taken the blow against the tree, managing to cushion Soul. Spirit coughed, the coppery taste that filled his mouth warned him of his state. Pulling himself up, grabbing onto the tree all the while for support, a cough rattled its way through him.

"Soul, get the next horse!" he commanded

"But you're hurt! We should get help" Soul contested pathetically, no match for the tone in spirit's voice.

"Get. The. Horse!" Another bloody cough racked its way through him and Soul complied immediately, he was shocked as never before had he seen Spirit angry. Never. Spirit helped Soul onto the horse again, and climbed on after him.

"The saddle?" Soul asked, knowing how much they cost.

"No time, too much weight" Spirit curtly responded before kicking the horse and leaning forward, holding onto the mangled reins in one hand, the new saddle-horn in the other. Soul's small arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

This stallion was stronger, its coat rich and black, strong rippling muscles, it had been Soul's father's, though Soul had no clue what it meant to have a father.

"Vasi! Toride, Vasi!" Spirit growled encouragingly into the horse's ear. The wind whipped around them, bugs pinching as they struck skin, leaves slicing as they flew by. A quasi derelict home loomed forth, and Spirit slowed the horse as they reached the stairway that climbed a story to the door above. "Silvermoon!" Spirit called out loudly as he could, the exhaustion he felt was mind numbing. A short, squat juggernaut of a man strode out, looking down his eyes widened. Jumping the stairs he ran to catch Spirit as he slipped off the horse, Soul still clung to the saddle. Silvermoon ganced at the child. "What happened?"

"Troops...Yume...we fled..." Spirit mumbled brokenly. It was enough for Silvermoon to understand. "What 'bout the boy? Who is he?"

Spirit took a deep breath "He's Yume's, you have to keep him safe, I'll continue our trail on so they don't find us. Find him a job, maybe one of the officers could use a squire, but only after the war..."

Silvermoon nodded, "Looks like Blackstar'll 'ave a new friend"

"Help me back up" Spirit climbed back onto the dark horse, and pulled a worried Soul off, passing him to the small man "Don't worry Soul, he's a good person. We'll meet again someday, even if you don't remember me... Goodbye Soul, Silver."

"Wait! Take my horse, you'll kill that one if you ride it anymore, an' if yer to get far yerl need a fresh steed." Spirit agilely slipped onto the next horse that pressed against his own and rode off quickly, lifting a hand in thanks.

"Alright boy. Get inside, we're just havng dinner, explain yerrself to my wife while I take care of this horse. Does it have a name?"

"Toride" Soul mumbled sheepishly, scared to look him in the eye.

"Right, well get yerself up there an' eat. You 'ave a busy day tomorrow."

* * *

A/N yes he never got told what happened... just presume this is a cutscene or something. just because the next chapter is gonna be a bitch to polgies for the crud naming of blackstar''s dad... Not like Soul will remember this anyways.

Review and I'll love you c:


	10. Chapter 10: A new adventure

A/N: Okay, seriously guys, do you want 1st person POVs or 3rd person? Because I am a bit confused, someone suggested I do POV so I did, should I stick to it? Or return to third person? Or switch between at different scenes? Tell me what you want seriously… otherwise I'll use POV only when I can't otherwise capture the depths of the emotion I want to describe. PLUS made this a bit longer to make up for not posting last week… Forgive me guys.

* * *

_-Chapter 10-_

A new adventure

* * *

"So, your choice…" Shinigama began slowly, the non-existent voice loud in Soul's ears, "is so: either I take you back to the Red Fort Prison, or you visit a friend of mine, I would be very interested to see where you got that extra power from, and Stein no doubt would be even more so…" The beast said each word with deliberateness and a slow finality.

"That's not a choice you lying shit." Soul spat. He was annoyed - he'd been hoping for at least a half-decent choice. He should have seen this coming.

"Hah. Hah." Shinigama rasped with each breath, his voice tearing unnaturally with the sound, "Yes it is, and I would think it rather an easy one to make".

"Fine, I'll see this 'Stein'" Soul reluctantly agreed, he ran his hand through his hair, sliding it to the side and out of his sight-line. "Where is he? What do I have to do?" he queried.

"Well I'm pretty sure that you have a certain someone you have to... take care of...first"

Shit, Soul thought, I completely forgot about her...

"Yea, give me a couple days, she's not a problem" _Poor Aelia, she was so unlucky_, Soul thought with a combination of indifference and lack of emotion. His mind returned to the God in front of him.

"Be there by the end of the month, or when I return I will make sure you regret it. He resides on the outskirts of Death City, look for the broken time-keeper with gnarled hands. Take this; you'll need it to get through the border, use the name you told Aelia... Kato…Hah" Another single rasp rattled out.

The bony hand delved into the depths of his shape, withdrawing and releasing into the air a small medallion. The metal object glinted slyly as it dropped so languidly, as though it weighed but a feather, into Soul's outstretched palm.

The sight was deceptive for as it touched his skin it seemed to increase its weight to that of a large stone. And, as Soul tried to keep his arm outstretched, the already tired muscles began to spasm against the sudden shock - pulling it close to his chest made holding it easier.

Soul carefully examined it – its shape was that of a squared cross; sharp edges pointed inwards like axe-blades at each end, the 4 great rivers depicted running in the centres met in the middle, surrounded by an embossed wreath of ivy.

It was not particularly ornate, but it was clear that it was crafted by the hand of a skilled smith – flawless. Glancing up Soul saw the Death God's shadowy existence swell and swarm around him, the polluting colours wrapping around his face and body in an undulating, bloated ball.

The once quasi-physical body now barely even that. The cloud thickened infinitely around the god, and compressed him, before exploding into a transparency.

"Mithras save me" Soul exhaled out loud, taking the name of some far-off religion's god in vain. He hated that Shinigama with a passion. His muscles were tight again, rolling his shoulders he groaned, the sheet of soreness that ran under his skin was uncomfortably constricting_._

_Goddamn I can't get a day of rest._

He had forgotten that he was still only in his boxers, the chequered material loose against him - his only modesty. The sheen of sweat that had gathered on his smooth skin had gradually cooled, like a thin lake of ice it sucked his warmth away.

The goose bumps that now made themselves visible like a million hills did nought to fend off the small shivers that trembled along his skin.

Throwing aside the heavy curtains a new wave of cold air flooded down and around his legs, causing him to shiver, the muscles rippling sharply, twisting him involuntarily. Wrapping an arm around his chest he looked out at the horizon through the mottled panes of glass in front that separated him from the peaceful, slumbering village.

The small trails of chimney-smoke sat in the air as though solid, so slowly did they move. The soft clouds on the horizon had begun to glow ever so faintly with the heat of the sun that had yet to emerge and show its sickly face; its large, manic, unceasing smile.

Soul estimated it was around 5:30, he hadn't had much sleep, but he was used to that. He lightly grated his nails across his chest, feeling his muscles hotter from the shivering. He was in good shape and though he needed to start training again, it could wait. He had more pressing matters on his mind, the shapeless Stein haunted him – he knew that if Stein was associated with Shinigama then he would not be a friendly character…

Making a concerted effort to push the thoughts of his new mission - he laughed out loud as he used that word – mission – like the old times… He focussed on the task at hand, or rather the person. Soul hadn't a choice, Aelia had proven herself a dogged follower throughout his travels, and he'd only ever been able to get ahead of her, never lose her.

The thought of that failure hurt his pride; the only way he had risen to his now lost position was through consistent and exceptional success in all areas – including evading an enemy. Well, the lack of choice would certainly make killing her easier, seeing as he no longer needed another reason to justify the heartless action.

Removing the only article of clothing he was wearing, he stepped under the shower, using the pain from the too-hot water to clear his mind. The searing liquid was burning his skin, but he didn't adjust it. The silky fire scorched deep into him, cauterising the present. As soon as Soul realised that the Sun's intense rays now bleached his room, he got out and got dressed.

He chose a new suit, one that mattered less to him but was still perfectly fitted to his shape. The charcoal grey punctuated by cyan pin-stripes that ran almost invisibly down him. A white shirt clasped itself to him, almost too tightly, taught around his broad chest. Lacing his pointed shoes, he did them up tightly, reminding himself what he had to do.

Trotting down the stairs he went to have his breakfast – as it was still early he was going to wait for Aelia to wake and come down herself, as he knew she would to search for the person hiding under her nose.

Sitting quietly in his familiar corner, he closed his eyes and leant back; enjoying the blanket of tiredness that covered his mind, slowing him down. He wasn't concerned, a strong coffee would wake him quickly and he had a fresh pot sitting on the edge of the table, the rich scent of the hot vapours filling the room.

The light sound of heels made him look up, and as his target was here, he decided that he'd need that coffee now. Pouring a cup he drank it quickly, knowing he had burnt his tongue but not caring.

He cleared his throat purposefully, drawing her attention. Aelia walked softly towards him, curious as to what he may want. She knew that she could never truly tell what was going on in the inside of his mind, but she figured she had him read pretty well.

"Hey Kato" She wondered whether she should be more formal, but his normal poker face didn't change so she figured she could continue "I was wondering whether, seeing as you're a military man, you could help me find the serial killer… I'm sure the government would give you a hefty reward?" She hoped the money would interest him.

_Perfect_ thought Soul maliciously "Yea why not, I get so bored on holidays…" He spoke with only the slightest nuance of sarcasm underlying his speech, as mostly it had been true, as much as he regretted its being so. "Do you have any ideas as to where to start?"

Aelia looked at his rhythmically moving lips, their contrasting colour captivating her. "From the beginning?" She hesitantly said the obvious, not having thought so far ahead.

Grabbing the blazer he had removed, he lifted and folded it over his left arm, before gesturing forwards with his right – imitating some high-born gentleman. She let her eyes trace over the skin of his fore-arm which she could see as he'd rolled up his sleeves -the veins pushed gently against the skin, the muscle beneath leaving no room for them.

He snapped his fingers in impatience and the small action resulted in the pulsing of muscles. She apologised, and taking her old, muddied cape from the stand by the door, she pulled it around her, the fatigued material hung limply around her – tired of its long duty.

As Aelia walked out the front door she didn't see Soul behind pull back his lips in a slight sneer as he looked at the dishevelled cloth on her back. He was glad that he'd never had to wear the same thing for so long that it looked like it would tear at a moment's notice. He slid his left hand along the door as he followed Aelia into the fresh morning air.

It was a bad move, the old wood had splintered from where people had decided to dramtically kick the door open, and one lone piece speared its way into his palm. The sliver went deep, Soul inhaled sharply; yanking his hand back the sliver tore from the door and stayed lodged in him.

Quietly Soul followed Aelia, his teeth gritted as he dealt with the pain – his face belied no emotion and, bar the tensed jaw, was a perfect image of tranquillity. Each beat of his heart sent pulse after pulse of throbbing, white needles of pain up his arm.

Blood now seeped around the wound; the viscous life slowly trickled its way down the inside of his partially hanging hand, catching in the lines and callouses of his palm. Lifting his palm to his mouth he enveloped the puncture, gently prodding with his tongue he found the end of the splinter and carefully - delicately bit down on it and drew the barbed wood from his flesh.

The molten copper that flowed into his mouth as he took the last of the piece out was more than he expected, he spat out the wood as the door slammed behind him and sealed his lips around the puncture.

Looking around, Aelia saw Soul's mouth covered with blood, and his palm pressed against his lips. It looked as though he had chewed into his hand. She exclaimed.

"No, just a small splinter. I'm fine." His voice was muffled from behind his hand, using his clean hand he slid carefully the jacket from the crook of his arm, careful for it not to get bloodied, and placed it over a nearby bench.

Using his freed hand he blindly grasped inside his pocket before drawing out from it a silk handkerchief, the icy white cloth melted against the wound, the hot blood flooding through the threads, and as the microscopic plains filled, drips did trickle through.

Soul watched one drop, its curved body serenely fell, caught in the air, the light glinting off its smooth skin. The bloody tear struck the powdery ground, a tiny explosion caught in the muck as the blood now settled in a tiny circle at his feet.

He clenched the handkerchief in his hand; excess crimson squeezed out between his fingers, staining his nails. He ran his now incredibly red tongue around his lips, tasting the drying blood. Aelia's eyes widened.

"Go on ahead; I just need to wash my face." He commanded as he walked away to the stables, intending to use the water trough. Aelia was somewhat dazed, his apparent enjoyment at the taste of blood perturbed her and she was secretly glad to get some distance.

The trail into the humble village was guarded by two great weeping willows. Their shoulders high as their cracked and coarse arms hung over one another, like two people about to embrace, the leafy ceiling breaking, shattering the light that came through form the sky.

The eddies of wind scuttled through the leafy fingers up above, a dazzling show of light upon the ground as the shadows ran side to side, their random patterning flickering over Aelia as she passed through, the tendrils brushing her hair like long fingers draped from the sky.

Soul walked quickly, his hand still clenched around the stained silk, he no longer looked like a wild cannibal, rather he was back to his character - the smart officer. The right side of his mouth pulled up in a smirk as he thought that.

Head down, he soon caught up to Aelia, the pain in his hand now reduced. He was thankful that it was his left that was injured, as he'd need his right to finish her. Walking through the same natural doorway, a breeze over took him; the leaves shuddered as Soul passed underneath, their branches creaking, and trunks moaning. The leaves huddled close together above him.

"Hey" Soul grunted, letting Aelia know he was close behind her.

"Oh, hey, what happened?" Hoping for an explanation to settle her stomach.

"Nothing, just a small splinter I had to take out" He nonchalantly replied.

"Looked like a lot of blood for a small splinter…"

"Nah, it must have just clipped a vein is all, I'm sure the bleeding will stop soon"  
Truthfully Soul was slightly worried; he'd known people to die from less. He clenched the stained cloth tighter, knuckles whitening, he wanted to make sure the bleeding stopped soon; he needed that hand too… "Hey, why don't we check further up the tracks, then we can get a good heading where he was going, he may have tried to throw some stuff over the cliff edge too, we should check there…" He led her, hoping that he wasn't being too obvious.

"Wow, you really know your stuff huh…" Slightly impressed at his quick plan.

"Yea I've done a lot for the government in my time"_ Shit, that implies I'm no longer working for them… Hopefully she doesn't realise…_

"Oh, that would make sense I guess. My husband was only in the local guard, he wouldn't have had any of the experiences you'd have had in the real army…" "She reminisced forlornly, ending with a soft sigh.

_Eurgh, emotions._ Soul thought, disgusted. _They are so annoying. They stop you being successful, stop you winning, stop you from being on top. _

Though Soul didn't like to recall, he had experienced emotions, and so felt his arguments were justified. _ Emotions are too clouding._ Soul hadn't realised the subtle influence the Imp was having, from the armchair in its room it guided Soul's thoughts, the smile warping around the misshapen head; pointed nails clicking together in rhythm.

The forest thickened substantially to the left, great trees filled every space, and the vines that climbed fought to find light. Their large dark leaves like plates. The bushes' gnarled twigs pierced against the trunks, and the spines viciously grabbed at anything that came too close, their sharp fingers unmoving yet so dangerous.

The heady scent of the forest fell into the road, the heavy hum of life buzzing statically. The right was considerably emptier, a sharp plummet formed from a jagged tear in the earth.

The bare, sun-scorched rock exposing the lines of a millennia. The glowing chestnut and cardinal strips of stone rising majestically upwards. Almost floating islands balanced precariously on needle thin towers that extended down below, the land mark of a dead silver birch that sat upon one had many a story in the town.

The sterling bark and entwined branches reaching up, as though it would help, the dead alabaster roots hung from and clung to the platform, like a large hand grasping for purchase. The radiation from the stone gently baked their skin.

_This is the place, she'll soon become just another story of a girl who fell while reaching for the tree._

"I think I see something up there." Soul pointed to a small outcrop that he had noticed jutting over the precipitous edge.

Aelia scurried forth quickly in eagerness, Soul was close behind. He was on her heels and she had no idea. As she crouched examining the empty ground Soul took a strong stance and using his good hand, grabbed her collar. Lifting her off balance and over the edge…

* * *

A/N: Sorry, I bet you guys hate me for leaving it here, but I have work I need to do!


	11. Chapter 11: Leaving

_-Chapter_ 11-

Leaving

* * *

The sudden constriction around her neck shocked her; she twisted around, eyes wide in panic. She met with the burning pits of Soul, her forest eyes soon caught ablaze and the wildfire spread throughout her veins.

A clashing icy flush dropped over her, as she realised who he was and how he had led her, and what he was about to do. The foundations she had built so much on began to drop away like the earthy outcrop she was crouching on.

The Imp shrieked gleefully as he saw the cracks trace around Aelia, the crevices like threads widening quickly, and all Soul had to do was make sure she stayed there.

A soft whimper escaped from Aelia as she saw what was about to happen, what Soul was doing. He was going to kill her, and there was absolutely nothing she could do. The helplessness she felt consumed her, like a tidal wave it swallowed every other emotion and thought that dared enter her mind.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Soul wanted to spite the Imp, to keep control after losing so much. The pure innocence that glistened with tears in front of him, the child-like demeanour showing him how insane he was.

Far off a clap of thunder trembled across the sky, shaking the earth further, the ground loosening. The dead grass roots unable to hold the weight anymore tore audibly. It was his chance to exact vengeance upon the Imp, to regain power over himself, though it had been him who had allowed the darkness to gain a better hold.

The Imp felt the doubt, the unsure heart in his host; and it would not let Soul take charge. The Imp let out a roar from its dark room, fought to the front of Soul's mind and pulled at his reigns. The gnarled, clubbed fingers wrapped tight around Soul's thoughts, clenching their necks - throttling all the life it could from them.

The delirious monster was filled with rage at the strength of these tiny creations of light that held strong in Soul, blinding the beast inside as they fought this battle in their never-ending war.

.

.

.

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.

.

.

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Soul roared out a curse with his last breath as he yanked Aelia up from her plummet, her hair fell over her face and all about her as she landed on him; he released a second gust of air as his body thumped against the ground, absorbing some impact.

The Imp would not have it, wresting back control. Souls left hand closed over Aelia's mouth, his other crushed her windpipe, the milky skin beneath bruising. Blood trickled into her mouth from the wound on Soul's hand and from the cuts that slashed along her lips like a fence.

She struck out at him, trying to hit anything she could, but to no avail. Her slim arms could not do enough damage to force his release. Slowly the clouds of black began to swim and thicken in front of her, the earth's rich colours bleaching, desaturated into tones of black and white.

All she could do now was hope, hope that Soul would change his mind.

_**Her soul WILL be mine!**_ The Imp screeched like a murder of a hundred crows.

_You aren't that strong, Imp. I'm still in control you scummy piece of shit._ Soul fought back, never having felt a need to before, now he had to or risk losing himself.

Throwing himself off her, he stood back looking at his semi-conscious victim. Her hair swam around her head in the bloodied beige dirt; her eyes half-lidded; her pink-blue lips partially open; her light chest rising slightly.

_Shit_, thought Soul, Shit. Do I wait for her to wake-up? He mentally scalded himself for following the Imp which was now fuming in some hidden crevice of his head.

"Fucking Goddamn Hellfire!" The string of curses that spilt from his mouth did little to assuage his conflict. He started walking back to the still lifeless village, _people are slow here_, he mused.

Walking through the back entrance of the creaking tavern, he snuck up into his room to fetch his essentials - chiefly his two swords, which as he entered the room, he noticed immediately were missing.

His stomach plummeted faster than St. Lucifer did when he was cast from heaven, dropping back against the wall he shook his head murmuring "No" repeatedly. Where once they lay now sat a small manila envelope made of high quality, thick paper.

Its body sealed at the back with oily black wax, the death god's emblem pressed into it. Shinigama. Nothing would have stopped the torrent of foul words that flew from his mouth in vexation and ire, the sounds polluting the air.

Leaning forward he snatched the envelope from its careful placement, tearing it open and reading the practiced, regal script that only millennia can achieve:

General S. E. Evans,

I returned after your departure so as to take possession of your two swords.

I am afraid you are unlikely to have these returned any time soon as they pose too great a risk to the success of your nefarious machinations.

I do apologise for the hindrance and aggravation I have indubitably caused.

Sincerely do I hope that you are not to linger; for the girl you nearly killed will undoubtedly be alerting the paupers once she awakes.

Shinigama

Crumpling the note in his fist he stood up and threw it to the side. He roared in frustration. Remembering his state and actions, he scrambled for new clothes and filled a sack with more, stuffing in anything else he thought he might need.

Stepping into the wardrobe he pushed on the smooth mahogany panel in the bottom right corner, feeling a gentle click he released and the door swung forward in silence.

Slipping his hand inside he felt for the two pouches of gold, the small bags clinked as his hand met them; the comforting weight filled his hand as he took them out. He also removed a gladius, the sword he'd found on his first campaign in Africa when they'd rested in some old ruins.

The ivory handle was worn; a wolf's head carved into the end and an XIII was all that the handle now held. The sheath had been filled with excessive animal fat, and the blade still held both its sharp edge and bright shine – having been cleaned and sealed.

It was an amazing find with a gorgeous fit and beautiful balance; it held many a memory. Emptying the safe he sighed, a long drawn out sigh that heralded the beginning of the end for his freedom; that he knew.

He grabbed the brown sack, and fled to the stables, seizing his saddle and hurriedly throwing it over Toride, who snickered in annoyance. Normally Soul took more care but not today, he secured the satchel and grabbed the new riding cloak he'd brought from his room. The heavy black material smelled good – familiar.

Without further pause Soul unlatched the horse, lifted the gate and mounted Toride, jabbing his heels in as he landed. The huge commotion of the heavy horse storming through the village woke many and they were soon to discover the passed-out, half strangled Aelia to the side of the main road.

They rode hard, day and night for the first few days, before being forced to sleep. Half-starved they kept going, the coarse map that Soul remembered of Columbia served him well enough, he knew he was somewhere on the edge of the Guajira desert, and that he'd have to keep going north to reach the states. The only place Soul could think Stein would be would be in Death's City. _Shinigama couldn't just give me straightforward locations could he._

The scenery blurred into one long smear of colours as Soul paid less and less attention as he became increasingly exhausted. He'd avoided all the major towns and only every stopped long enough to buy food and water, sleeping rough in a stable with his horse.

Days and weeks passed without trouble, he'd managed to evade Aelia and presumably the village had notified the regime. He was nearing the boarder to Mexico which posed no problem, however getting into the States the increased military presence would call for more caution.

Not only that but his time was starting to run short, having had to pursue longer routes had taken it out of him and he didn't know whether he would make it in time, Toride looked as starved again as he was when they first found that village.

Finding a small cave, Soul let Toride graze outside before building a small fire and getting some sleep, he intended to reach Stein the day after.

The morning broke early, the chill sat lightly in the air, soothing his lungs and numbing his tongue. His hands were white as he pulled himself over, his lethargic legs nearly making him slip off the saddle. He dozed half-waking towards a break in the border, unguarded where a huge tree had fallen onto it.

Carefully walking through, they were in the country, the relative ease at which they had crossed, and the fortune of finding such a crossing pleasantly surprised Soul who now set a course for Nevada. He wasn't wanted in this country and knowing this he was more casual in his journey to his first destination.

* * *

A/N Okay guys I'm ending it there, the chapter, not the story don't panic. I am so exhausted from diving you have no clue, and I've barelyhad time to write this, truly I would have rather spent this afternoon sleeping seeing as it's the first substantial break between dives and dinner I've had but hey, you better be grateful. You can probably tell where I started really getting fatigued but w/e. I can only apologise so much. It's friggin great here in Egypt – I'm in a small town on the Red Sea called Dahab but I'll be leaving this coming week sometime, can't remember the dates, BUT once I'm home, defo 2-3k word chapter of my old high quality stuff to make up for the not posting last weekend and the small chapter this weekend.

Cya next week, feel free to message me with ideas or cool sceneries you might imagine. Else I'll do my best.

KH


	12. Chapter 12: Greetings, Dr Stein

_-Chapter 12-_

Greetings, Dr Stein

* * *

"Chyah, chyah" Soul shouted into the wind as he dug his heels into Toride's flanks, the sharp heels biting into the working muscles.

Calls of 'Gi'iyup' burst from behind. The rangers' horses kicking up a cloud of orange dust as they spurred their steeds on in chase - the drumroll of hoof-beats filling the air.

The night before, Soul had discovered what he had thought was an abandoned barn - quite why he had thought that escaped him, as it had held several bales of hay - which Toride had feasted on.

It was more than likely that he had convinced himself just to have a shelter for the night. He kicked himself for that weakness.

Now he was once again being chased, not by officers but by the rangers to whom the barn belonged and who acted as a form of police. They didn't appreciate Soul's trespassing or the quantity of hay which his horse had consumed.

So chasing Soul had now become the day's entertainment. Were they to catch him Soul would not be in a favourable position. Fortunately Soul was riding north, and the rangers that were currently galloping behind him would not be welcome in the ranches there.

The great estates that ruled within the southern states were fiercely loyal and a trespass would carry dire consequences if caught.

Soul once again had no clue why the rangers were to suddenly break off the chase at the haggard and rickety old wooden fence he'd jumped, and wasn't about to stop to ask. Taking the good fortune which had befallen him he didn't slow, but instead charged ahead, looking for the first road he could follow.

The chase had disoriented him further and he had no clue as to where he was. Slowing to a trot he squinted, brows furrowing and cheeks pulling up, the blinding sun laughed on at his plight and Soul continued his aimless, directionless trot.

Around him waved the heavy heads of ripening corn, the sharp leaves and hollow stalks scraped along them. The track being left in their wake was only slight, as the corn slowly waved back to their soldier straight position under the beaming light. The wide dark hands of the stalks grasped at him occasionally, tugging at his trousers.

_Just keep going, you're running out of time_ he thought hopelessly under the repetitive muffled hoof falls of the horse. He'd had his eyes shut for a while now, but the sudden change in rhythm and sound woke him from his heat drugged daze. His tongue tentatively trailed over his cracked, dry lips, the moisture bringing swarms of stinging all over the sensitive skin.

The hard, oven-baked road radiated warmth, the clay having been cooked horrendously in the hot sun. Following the road, they soon came to a traveller's hub, the few small buildings packed with peculiarly dressed people.

They would wear tan leather boots, with shining spurs that jingled each step, the tops of which held strips that fluttered in the breeze. Most sported washed-out blue pair of denim jeans and a buttoned shirt that billowed out in the gusts .Of course they also each possessed a round straw hat, that was distinctly shaped - slightly ovular and very light.

Soul sat stupidly and as he looked around he realised he was the one out of place - his smart appearance blatantly clashed with the townsfolk; him in his dark charcoal trousers, pressed white shirt - that was now considerably crumpled like the rest of his outfit, and the suit jacket which slumped over the back of his saddle.

No wonder he had cooked so much in the summer day. Whilst he had sat still, Toride had continued walking, as he had spotted a heavy water trough where the other horses were hitched. The heavy cream stone sat mottled and bleached from the sun, covered in imperfections and dents with soft, pale green water gently rippling inside. He still sat as he decidedly ignored the people now openly staring at him.

"A Bawby-jay, we's gots one derm outta tern Jacks luhkin awl fancy like" and with that it seemed like half the hub stopped to stare at him, so many pairs of eyes just ceased their business and examined him.

Soul found what he was looking for in the meantime - A sign post - and read the blessed words 'Death City, Nevada -'. Yanking on the reigns he started off quickly, the villagers had become more hostile than anything else, mentions of him being one of the satanic horsemen quickly spread and weapons were being drawn, the pretty glints like blinding suns of their own as they reflected the huge orb in the sky.

Finally, Soul breathed a sigh of relief as he departed the dangerous place. And then sucked it back in again. _Shit - checkpoint, please don't be checkmate._

Soul reached inside his jacket and pulled out the medallion, the rivers had changed, he slapped himself as he realised it was a compass; one of the rivers had lengthened to point directly at Death City. Too late now, he slipped on his burning jacket, the material so incredibly hot that it was amazing it hadn't started combusting.

Taking several deep breaths he pinned on his medal and prepared himself.

The road changed sharply from cheap cobbles to manufactured paving stones. The pale bricks designed to reflect heat – their white was a pure absence of colour and dirt, a white that reflected everything.

Throughout the great promenade that was lined with palm trees that leapt up high out the ground were swirls of pale blue and orange; the elemental dance of water and fire captured flawlessly in this masterpiece.

The splendour of just the roads made Soul wonder what Death city was like, especially the palace that he could see rising majestically out of the of the city but blurred and distorted by the heat waves and dust.

The traffic had increased too, many a covered wagon clopped past, the oxen pulling marble blocks or some other heavy produce.

Others were pulled by mules and the green leafy heads sticking out from under the shade implied grocers and such. But that was not to say that they weren't stopped and vigorously searched. As Soul drew closer he could hear a guard respond to a driver who'd asked why they bother when it was clear they were just groceries, saying "We cannot be allowing those **Muckers **from the road-hubs into the city, what if one were to be hiding under there?".

Soul approached, he slowed as he did so.

"Dismount!" The guard ordered. _Wow that pisses me off_ Soul hadn't been ordered like that for years, but he bit his tongue and obeyed. He had attached the medallion earlier to hang on his left lapel, level with his heart and conspicuously shiny in comparison to his dusted suit.

As it caught the guard's eye, he closely examined it, before looking up to him and asking, more politely "Your name, Sir?"

"Kato" He excluded his fictional rank as it no longer held authority here. Noting the name he waved 'Kato' through.

The lack of checking stirred some unrest in those who'd started to queue behind, and a particularly disgruntled person shouted that it was 'elitism'. Needless to say he was promptly silenced by a glare from the guard.

The horse's hooves clapped sharply against the stones below. As Soul approached the great city he noticed a winding trail to the right. Crossing the road he looked more carefully and saw a faded ' Dr. Stein – Best doctor in all the land' on a sun bleached piece of wood.

"Here we go Toride, now our adventure really begins…" Toride shook his head and whinnied in response. Trotting off the urban road, they returned to a mucky trail. It wound into dunes and dead hills that hid the building from the road.

As they got closer, they noticed a tower, it was made of whitewashed planks and stitched together with rusty nails that punctuated the monotonous, sterile colours. It reached up as though it were unsure of its ability; it creaked and groaned in the wind, and the bells inside gently chimed in the deathly silence as it leaned awkwardly.

They approached in silence as small breezes ghosted about them, the movement pulling a soft undulating howl form the building. Meeting the front of the structure as the hills opened out into flatlands was daunting. A great foyer crawled out of the building; two great columns of smooth stone continued the grey tones, the bottoms wide and flourished but smoothed by erosion. The heavy roof balanced upon it, giving shade to the dry white gravel underneath.

Around the foyer the rectangular building proliferated itself regularly, only further adding to the peculiarity of the tower. The two storey building was clinical, windows were regular and minimalistic and everything perfectly proportioned. Except for that tower…

Two bright doors rose up from the ground, the mottled glass inset in the upper half of the matt metal door. The door had been repaired it seemed, and pieces of metal were welded to it, the burns like stitch marks across it.

Soul dismounted carefully but still landed with a heavy and echoing crunch. He flinched at the sound and left his horse outside. There was no light bubbling through the rippling glass, but Soul approached regardless.

He stepped up onto the hard stone front and grabbed the wooden loop that hung from above. Pulling down fluently, the sounds of bells pealed out around him. Within he heard the slam of several doors and heavy footsteps.

The wooden thunk of an armchair or similar being hit echoed loudly and the sound of dry, screeching wheels greeted him as the door was slammed against from the inside. A few moments later the door slowly groaned inwards revealing a relatively young man who was hunched over the back of an office chair.

His pale hair made him look older as it hanged over his wide circular glasses which glinted in the dropping light. A simple, small cigarette hung loosely from his lips, the angry tip releasing a continuous stream of beautiful grey smoke that twirled and danced as it spiraled up into the sky.

His thin, pale lips smirked slightly and he rolled the cigarette around his mouth as he looked at Soul silently. The chair he sat on was old and worn, the grey leather torn and re-stitched all over, the chrome plated skeleton visible and rusting, and the hard wheels dull and dead. His hands also drooped from him, one over the front and the other in his lap. The heavy lab coat he wore surrounded most of his attire, but a relatively simple and plain outfit showed underneath.

Looking back at Stein, Soul suddenly gasped as pierced through Stein's head was a huge bolt that was slowly turning. It was in noticeably better condition than the rest of his equipment, Soul noted.

"Greetings, Mr Evans." Stein started, "You've found me then, and within the time it seems. Good, I'll enjoy this. Shinigama told me some… very… interesting… things about you."

"I'm sure he did. What do you want of me?" Soul had no clue what was to happen once he had met Stein, but figured he would have to end up fighting him.

"Not much, not much" Stein casually uttered in a high, ingenious voice. "just want to take some blood, do a few experiments… Nothing serious. Then you'll be free to go."

Soul eyes narrowed, his gut clenched and churned with ill-feelings, "and what if I say 'No'"?

"Doesn't matter, the outcome will be the same, I will get what results I want. I am The Doctor after all…"

"Then I say No."

"As you wish" Stein reached up to his head and turned the Bolt several times, each rotation earning a louder and deeper click than the previous. The sound slowed and echoed around Soul unnaturally and Stein's eyes glowed bright yellow. The same colour began to crack and coil around his arms and fill his hands, leaving a sulphurous smell in the air.

Toride snickered and trotted away to a safe distance. Soul recoiled slightly, sensing the massive wavelength emanating from Stein. His foot bit into the ground behind him as he braced himself. Pulling out his old shortsword he had no clue how he was to overcome Stein, but that wouldn't stop him fighting to the end.

"Let's do this." Soul murmured to Stein, locking eyes as Stein swung forward…

* * *

A/N Okay, so I know I promised a longer chapter, but I figured I'm already late ( I lost writing time due to flights, delays etc.) so I'll post this, hope you enjoyed and see ya next week! (Awkward moment where you go to spell 'next' as 'neckst')


	13. Chapter 13: Into the pits

**A/N:  
TaIoRaFoReVeR523 - I guess you get to start finding out how Maka is now hehe and thanks for being grateful.  
Sebastian's Kat - Fight indeed!  
Take My Picture – Made me chuckle when you saw that cliff hanger haha  
The Black Goldilocks – I'm sorry you can't keep your story going, but all good things must end hm?**

**Thanks everyone for your kind words – you guys are really too kind.  
Now, enjoy (and/or review(no obligations)) or I shall wish mild inconveniences upon you!  
**

* * *

_-Chapter 13-_

Into the pits

* * *

The crack of lightning deafened Soul as he ran at Stein, his jacket billowing out behind him. Stein's hand was raised from where the bolt of light had been thrown from.

_No way… Did he just fire wavelength at me? That's not possible… _Soul thought this fight would be at least equal; Stein hadn't even stood up from his old chair and had simply flicked Soul's strike away. As Soul turned to recover and face Stein once more, Stein slammed his right palm down into the centre of Soul's back - perfectly between his shoulder blades.

"You're mine." Stein growled, the cigarette burning gently in his mouth.

His wavelength exploded from his palm and slammed Soul into the ground, but that wasn't all it had done. It travelled through Soul, and hit within - struck and stunned the Imp, and all Soul could do was lay there. Face down chewing dirt – completely incapacitated.

Stein leaned back, his hands holding the back of the chair he spun a few time round laughing gleefully. A high gurgle of pleasure bubbling out his throat as he announced to no one "I've a new specimen! I've a new specimen! HAHAHAHAAAAA"

One lone, long and drawn out thought travelled through Soul's pain ridden mind - _Shit_.

*Soul's PoV*

My eyes were unfocused against the close ground, the grey white haze slowly covered my sight before I realised I needed to blink. I could smell the dirt, the choking powder coating my nose and hitting the back of my throat.

My arms, my entire body lay useless beneath this madman. _What the hell have you got me into Shinigama?_ A strong hand latched to my ankle, the iron grip tight as I was slowly dragged over the sharp gravel. My face was coarsely skinned on one side, each individual stone crunched and rolled along my raw cheek.

It was a relief to hit the smooth stone though the ledge that smacked against my jaw made me bite my tongue – the taste of my own blood bittersweet in my mouth. I was utterly powerless as Stein was not only insane but also unbelievably powerful.

_To have such control to manipulate his wavelength like that..._ _How could he be insane? Maybe it's just a cover... It must be a cover…_

A second cold ledge hit and clawed my face now as we entered the building. _What a pleasant experience_. I laughed at how I was able to stay sarcastic even in my current state.

_I wonder where we're going… _

I struggled to keep my eyes open, it was as though Stein had taken all the fight out of me – and I hated him for it. I hated how it was so easy for him, how he took what he wanted without a thought. _Bastard._

The forced exhaustion pulled my eyes shut, held them closed in the grip of sleep.

*BAM BAM BAM BAM * A flight of stairs was enough to wake me moments later, the drum roll of pain shot the night sky into my closed vision. He yanked hard and as my head flew over the penultimate step and struck the last a flash of black swamped my consciousness. I still heard the faint squeaking of Stein's chair, the waves of light as we passed under lamps. The floor was damp and cold, the sensation relieved some of the painful burning that blanketed my skin and the headache that exploded with each heartbeat.

"It's late, my pet – Tomorrow we'll start, meanwhile you'll be making a new friend I hope, emotions are Ohsomuchfun to watch." Stein feigned the voice of a caring adult, though the twisted side of him was still overpowering the attempt.

A heavy door slammed shut and a soft dripping punctuated the cloying silence. I listened and counted as I waited for the fire inside to return.

As my eyes gently opened, the blurred cell came into focus. Dank heavy walls bowed inwards, like stomachs too full, a moist floor panned out, a soft red light glowed through the barred window in the bolt ridden door.

Sliding down into a corner of the room it dawned on me. I was a prisoner. A. Fucking. Prisoner.

"FUCK" The massive outburst echoed back at me over and over, the headache returned with a vengeance and a small feminine gasp escaped from a back corner.

I inhaled sharply, I'd thought I was alone – how did I miss that. The forlorn, broken and crumpled shape of a thin - perhaps 19 year old – girl materialised from the shadow.

I swallowed, clueless as to how to proceed. Standing up regardless and collecting myself, I straightened my torn and dishevelled suit. _At least it wasn't one of the nicer ones._ I thought with a sad smile.

*Maka's PoV*

He stood and brushed the dirt from him as he stepped forward, a sick grin stretched his mouth as he no doubt thought how he was going to manipulate and abuse me.

The cold man removed his torn jacket, revealing a tight fit shirt that accentuated his figure. The first flickers of fear began to dance in my stomach and run down my veins, the walls dripped down like black oil – bleeding onto the floor.

Clearing his throat, he started quietly. "Good day. My name is Soul Eater Evans. Who are you?" His soft timbre was absorbed and didn't echo in the confines.

_Did he just introduce himself? _

Confusion overtook me, all I could do was blink and stare back at this man who seemed so out of place.

Now that I looked at him closely, the way he stood and was - slightly slouched to his right, but with a straight back insinuating a 'proper' upbringing; his well-spoken accent and his archaic language; they all implied nobility. _So what in the world was he doing here? He can't be real…_

He still stood there, waiting, staring at her with those eyes. In the low light their red was dark and blackened like old, congealed blood.

I was broken out of my thoughts by a sharp growl from my stomach that clenched and twisted with hunger, the sharp pangs felt like knives.

He coughed again – I didn't even know whether I should answer him, he's probably just another of Stein's tricks or maybe I'm imagining him… It's been so long since I'd seen my family, my friends or anyone bar that monster and his assistant.

_I must be imagining him…_ A small part of me hoped that he was real, that I wouldn't be alone any more but a bigger part believed I was finally falling into the deep pits of insanity.

I hid my face, burying it into my emaciated arms and the stench of damp and filth. _Maybe when I wake up again he'll be gone…_

*Soul's PoV*

I stood there silently, waiting for her to respond. All she did was look me in the eyes, her own narrowed in a mix of contempt, confusion and finally worry.

She hid herself without responding, her long, dirty hair falling back over her as her face disappeared.

_What do I do now? She must have been here for years from the state of her._ I decided to sit back down, clearly she wasn't going to talk to me and there was no way I could force her.

I didn't even have the energy to try and charm my way through her defences – though I wasn't sure if I even wanted that.

Tiredness overcame me once more and I lay on my side in the opposite corner before falling into a twisted and broken sleep.

_The soft sounds of a piano ride the gentle breezes in the open field of wheat. The notes melancholy and slow, matching the grey clouds and black mountains in the distance. Heavy pollen thickens the air, making it hard to breathe and now the piano picks up its pace, the notes and chords fighting over one another, battling to be heard. Crickets scream as they play, the tortured violinists' notes cutting through the wall of sound. Heavy hammers of noise slam against one another in Soul's mind. _

_There sits the imp, its claws clacking at each strike of the keys._My piano… _  
"It's mine now" The Imp replies, "all mine."  
The heads of the wheat now face him, standing stock still they dead silvered faces staring. Each one is a different person, a different butchered face – some so mangled they barely are there. Black gunge bubbles from their mouths, filling and pooling around his ankles._

*Maka's PoV*

"Stop… Stop…_"_ The sharp man in the corner murmured. His brow was furrowed, and his strong jaw clenched. My eyes had adjusted well to the darkness, and I'd adapted too - being here for so long.

I silently crawled over to him. His body lay on its side, one arm supporting his head, the next laying on top of him.

He looked young, only a few years older than her. He'd stopped speaking but his face had not changed. Wondering what he was dreaming I sat there quietly.

I definitely didn't want to wake him, but then again seeing as he was real I was also consumed by an insatiable curiosity. _At least I'm not going mad _I laughed silently to myself.

*Soul PoV*

_The inky sludge filled higher and higher. It swallowed everything, and there the Imp sat, at my piano and in my sanctuary. And it was destroying my only hope of peace. The slime had reached my chest now and I struggled to reach the Imp, my legs tired under the strain. _No… _I was going to lose it. _

My eyes snapped open and I sat up quickly - panting and covered with sweat for a reason I couldn't remember. In the process startling Maka who like a wild animal had inched closer when I had been sleeping.

Just as we made eye contact, our faces too close together, the door flew open and slammed against the wall, the metallic clang deafening them.

"Good morning! Good morning! How are you, this morning? What's the story - morning glory? What's the word - Humming bird?" Stein sung manically, stringing together disjointed lyrics from songs he no longer knew.

"Oh goody you've made a new friend! Well I'm going to have to take your friend here for a few… questions bye my poppet" He smiled at Maka before tearing me out of the cell.

I tried to jump him but he seemed able to read my mind as just before I did he sent another paralysing bolt through my entire body, forcing me into another blackout.

Cold metal gripped my wrists and ankles; another heavy belt wrapped its heavy tongue around my waist and pulled itself tight against me - the metal buckle freezing against my skin.

Stein had disappeared momentarily, but now walked in pushing a metal trolley covered in an assortment of scalpels, pliers, syringes and needles. He hummed cheerfully, the colourful notes clashing with the dead clinical environment. Bright lights shined down onto me, their strength partially blinding me.

Stein walked up slowly, humming continuously before stating "You're wearing to many clothes. How can I work with that?" Reaching over to his tray he lifted a large pair of scissors and began to cut and rip through my shirt.

"Much better" Stein grinned. The light now shone hot on my skin, and as he drew lines and marks on my skin the ink left icy patches as it dried. "Looks like you've been through the wars my pretty friend."

"You have no idea." I quietly whispered.

"Oh but I do, I do! Shingama told me oh so much, and you are oh so interesting. I shall take extra care not to kill you, hm?" He twisted the bolt in his head some more, his glasses glinting again as they caught the sterile light.

"Now let's begin, this is going to be oh so much fun" Stein giggled before the bitter blade sliced into my chest.


	14. Chapter 14: Stein's pleasure

**TaIoRaFoReVeR523 – Updated early just for you (you better love me forever for this:] ) and I totes see what you did there xP  
Take My Picture – I'm glad you're enjoying it.  
snowbunnie13 – Yea I reread it and see what you mean, I'll take more care in future.  
Sebastian's Kat – Or maybe the one after, you forget how long I take to get anywhere haha  
sammXD – That's all I ask for  
wildface97 – Yea y'know I actually noticed that earlier and was like 'Right, stop that.' And then I forgot hahaha. I'll make that my goal *chants Shinigami over and over***

**Hey guys 'pologies for the excessive PoVs last chapter – got a bit carried away aheh… I also feel that that last chapter was also on the lower end of my ability so just want to say sorry for letting you guys down (if you noticed, that is…) And I just want to recommend 'First Impressions' by Malakia – It's an amazing story and Malakia is a very talented writer, I strive to achieve the same balance between dialogue and description as s/he does. (You know how bad I am at dialogue xD anyways, enough chatter, let's do this *writing face*)**

**P.S This has a little gore in it, but I'm sure you've seen worse :P**

* * *

**-**_Chapter 14-_

Stein's pleasure

* * *

Horrid, torn screams ripped themselves out of Soul's throat, their serrated bodies jagged and sharp; the vocal chords tearing under the magnitude of pain that each yell held as they clawed their exit.

The coarse sounds smashed around the professionally makeshift operating theatre. His back tried to arch up as his muscles contorted but the heavy clasp prevented it, the hot sweat sticking him back to the freezing metal table.

A large metallic arm held itself above his body; the bright white, shining face staring down at him questioningly as from it dangled a terrifying assortment of drills with barbed heads, rusted handsaws and a cauterising unit.

"Ohwohoopsiedarlin', did I forget the anaesthetic? Too late now mhm heehee" Steins head swayed left and right as his impersonation of a nurse smiled and giggled from his mouth.

Soul's body looked almost as though a tiger had attacked it, yet each cut was so clean it was simply the unhealthy coating of blood that had clotted that looked so terrible.

Stein licked his lips as he brought the scalpel blade close to his face, the bloodied instrument red and pink as fresh blood dripped from the shining surface.

Stein inhaled loudly through his nose, slowly tilting his head back as the smell entered his nostrils and snaked into his lungs.

"Interesting" Stein spoke calmly "Very interesting yes… Perhaps I ought not to cut you with such vigour. But it's so much fun, and besides I can stitch him up again. Yes but what if you miss and he gets injured. You'll have to wait to experiment on him that's all. Stop being such a downer. No you. No you! ENOUGH!"

His speech had remained tempered and calm until the end, the discussion batted back and force as though there were two in the room.

"It's your lucky day Soul Eater Evans, your blood will be the subject of my experiments. In the meantime Ms Marie will clean you up after I've finished these last few things."

Stein stepped close to the table as he moved the blade back close to Soul's chest. There were several cuts of about an inch that were still open, and the metal clanked softly as he dropped the scalpel and picked up a pointed, needle like instrument.

Stein slowly pulled the cut open, revealing the pulsing red flesh beneath. The web of capillaries and muscle fibres were like a tough sheet and Stein pushed the needle in between them.

The vibrations of the tearing travelled quickly and precisely up into Steins fingers, and elicited a stifled groan from Soul who could feel the cold of the instrument intruding and exploring beneath his skin.

Stein's grip changed and he held the instrument in a fist, slowly pulling towards him and parting more of the muscle. Rich, thick blood flowed upwards as the capillaries burst under the stress. Stein removed the needle like instrument now and pushed into the space a finger, delving around like a fat, painful worm.

_Just breathe, Soul. You can take this, you've taken worse. _Soul tried to convince himself, but knew in the back of his mind that he couldn't take much more. He knew he had been lying on this table since breakfast as he counted the meals Stein made and the type of food he ate.

So far Stein had only made numerous smaller incisions over all the minor vital organs but now he slowly scraped the blade against the single long scar that lay diagonally across Souls chiselled torso.

"I wonder what's under here" Stein drew out the last word as he gently pulled the blade back up to the top of the scar.

Soul gritted his teeth, so far the pain had been manageable but that scar still ached at times, he knew that if it was cut open again that there would be no way for him to cope.

"Another day, another day. Another day is when we shall play. Now make like a carrot while I patch you up" Stein fetched a curled needle and a spindle of rolled white thread. He ran the clean needle over a flame, the tongue of the blaze licking and burning it. Carefully pushing the thread through, he began his repairs.

With a pair of shining tweezers he held the flesh in place and pushed the hot needle through, the skin pushing in, indenting deeply before bursting back along the metal as the tip pierced through.

For Soul each puncture was a relief that harkened the finale of this torment, though he knew more was sure to come.

Stein had rolled his white lab coat sleeves up to his elbows so his arms held most of the dirt from the night. Red drops speckled his arms like a farmyard egg and his hands looked as though he had been mashing strawberries, the stain pale and thin.

The rich pink gloves that Stein now wore stubbornly refused to be scrubbed off and no matter how much soap he used, or how tough a brush still there the stain remained. Stein growled in frustration. "I should just cut them off and get rid of this problem" he muttered to himself.

He slammed his rinsed hand against a pale blue knob that sat like a beetle against the mildew covered walls nearby; the water flew from his skin and darkened the area around the button with a blotchy splattering.

Soul twisted his head slowly, taking the needles of pain that raced along his spine like a highway of agony. His hair fell lightly across his eyes, blurring his vision slightly as he looked at Stein.

He was scrubbing his hands vigorously again, bits of soap flying out of the grey metal sink. The sink sat on a wide basin, made of the same metal which held a disconnected embargo of items. Old coffee mugs, plates and cutlery mingled with bandages, bolts and medical tools. Soul could hear Stein muttering angrily but the words failed to reach his ears.

The sharp click of heels resounded down the empty corridors before weakly echoing through the door. Soul counted them in his head simply for an escape from the presently throbbing wounds all over him.

The sharp sounds punctuated the quiet more forcefully now, like hammer blows they worked on Soul's head, landing in synchronisation with the already softly pounding headache he was suffering from once more.

Soul's face started to clench again, and as he noticed he forced his muscles to relax – to deadpan. If he showed no emotion he would feel no emotion, it was a simple mechanism that worked for him with ruthless efficiency.

Slowly he brought himself back to stare at the light above him, the light soon enveloped his surroundings, bleaching their already dead colours and wiping them from the present.

It was only for a short time that Soul remained in this partially conscious respite, as soon the double doors swung open, the old hinges squealing quietly.

The woman who walked through was older but held much of her youthful vigour as could be seen from her smooth skin and high cheek-bones. Her skin was almost flawless and her rich golden blonde hair softly waved down to rest over her shoulders.

Her opalescent hazel eye twinkled with something akin to 'joie de vivre' as the other was covered with a simple black patch. It wasn't attractive but she wore it with confidence. Her eyebrows were high and her eyelashes thick and curled; her face toned and her body slim.

"Stein, what have you got here then? You didn't tell me you had a new subject." She said almost maternally to him. Soul could see now who Stein had been failing to imitate earlier. Her voice was light and easy to listen to "does he have a name?"

"Marie, took you too long to get here" he said without any annoyance as he walked over to her, his hands hidden in a towel "It's Soul Eater Evans - the one and only. I know! What a find! Well I didn't find him old Shini did - said it would be interesting to take a look in him… or at him, all I know he's mine all mine mm yes mine indeed" he rambled slightly.

"Ohnowmarie be a dear and clean him up?" Stein asked with a face of a puppy dog. It was off-putting how he could change himself so quickly.

"Stein! You always do this; I've been cleaning up Maka and every other wretch that comes through here after you for years!"

"Pweeease honeybuns?" Stein begged once more, though they both knew it was just an act Marie still complied.

She filled a deep ceramic dish with warm water as Stein strolled out the room still wringing his hands in the towel. The steam floated serenely upwards as she added pure hot water now, the tap sputtering occasionally, launching droplets of water everywhere.

"So Soul, my name is Marie. I would say I pity you, but after what you did… anyhow, I'm not one to judge." She walked over with a coarse yellow sponge in her hand and as she walked she dunked the old thing into the water.

"How…kind of you." Soul said, each word calculated and thought through. Their conversation stopped there as she had reached the table and begun to douse all the incisions with hot water, rinsing the crusted scabs off with only a partial degree of mercy.

The water that flowed down onto the table and off onto the floor was a translucent solution of blood and water. His skin reddened as the hot water coursed over him, but he soon began to get a chill in the cool room.

"Well now you're clean we can take you back to your room now" Marie stated "Do I need to get Stein to knock you out or are you going to behave?"

Soul sighed in concurrence with the latter, unable to bring himself to say the words but wanting to remain awake more than ever. _ Perhaps that girl will still be there, she seems…something._ Soul couldn't find a word to fit his puzzle of thoughts.

Mare carefully walked around Soul, unlatching the heavy clasps and buckles that had held him prisoner during his private purgatory. The hard mouths snapped open with a clang that ricocheted around the hard and achromatic room.

The blood loss had weakened Soul as Stein had had no need to take care how much damage he did, simply slicing wherever he pleased. The simple act of sitting up had him panting and fighting to stay awake. His head was bowed as slowly he slid himself down from the table, dropping to the floor with a thud.

He stood up from his crouch, using the table to lift himself up.

"No need to be a drama queen." Marie jibed.

Soul was too drained to bother a response, instead opting to walk forward towards the doors. He was aghast at the amount of focus he had to put in to prevent himself tripping over his own feet.

"This way" Marie stated as she walked past him casually. Not caring to hold the doors open for Soul, they swung back and collided. Marie looked back at the noise and saw Soul hanging onto the edge of the door for all he was worth; the other door resting against him. "Come on, we haven't got all evening old man" she teased again as she lifted his left shoulder and helped carry him back to the cell.

Soul attempted to remember the path ways that led from the operation theatre to the cell, and all the other doors that branched off. Some had light shining from beneath the entrances others looked as though they'd been unopened for years with dust and cobwebs dressing the handles.

Marie was gentler than Stein as she pushed Soul carefully into the cell, on second-thought dropping inside a glowing sphere that emerged from nowhere. "You seem to like the light, Moth-boy"

_She noticed me staring at the light then…. How perceptive._

The pale glow illuminated the dingy surroundings; Soul wondered whether it was better to not see at all until he noticed the girl curled, once again in the far corner.

Two words carefully tiptoed their way to Soul from the bundle, their sound almost lost to the background.

"You're real?"


	15. Chapter 15: Shower day

**A/N: Thanks guys who reviewed - it really makes a difference, even if it is only a few words like ohh I don't know " You're the best writer in the world" or "I love you" haha :P I'm kidding, enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

_-Chapter 15-_

Shower day

* * *

Soul blinked as though to clear his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm… I am real." He was tripping over his own thoughts as he tried to figure out whether to keep fighting the numbing exhaustion or to give in - knowing that when he next awoke she may not be there.

Maka raised her head revealing a thin, gaunt face. Her bones jutted out with angular ridges and her skin was ashen and grey. Perhaps once she had been beautiful and lively but the time in this prison had beaten down on her with an ungodly violence and sucked the life mercilessly from her.

Her eyes were a shimmering green, the forest hues flickered with dashes of stormy grey that, rather than polluting the sparkling opals, flitted in and out, enhancing the subtle tones within, dappling the green like captured light. Those eyes filled Soul with the tranquillity of being under shelter whilst about him a tempest might rage.

But those eyes also held the dangerous silence of the eye of the hurricane. The bags under her eyes were filled with lost shadows and cold memories, and her soft ears were covered by the messy and knotted hair - the hair that fell long and fluidly across her shoulders, down the back of her neck tracing her smooth contours like a coarse, experienced hand.

Her hair was difficult to describe, the first that one might guess would be a dirty blonde where the smoky dusk of the dead room was not taken into account. In reality her hair would fit more closely to an amber, the colour a skilled mix of honey and chestnut that only an artist could find.

Everything about her face seemed to shout of an exquisiteness that had been marred and blunted by harsh actions and cruel words.

Maka leant forward her pale hands sliding with control along the ground as she pushed herself up, slowly walking towards him, her bare feet padded quietly. Her ragged and torn clothes shocked Soul, as he thought with disbelief that it looked like a uniform that had become too small for its wearer.

The long, smooth sleeves were torn short at the left and pinched tight around her elbows showing thin, hurt arms that had a variety of scratches, cuts and thin scars. The same ivory cloth covered her body albeit with holes along the side where it seemed her hands might clench as she sat with them wrapped around her stomach.

The deep blue of her short skirt was stained with patches of black and her long legs were patterned with bruises of all their colours.

As she reached him she raised her arm, her hand reaching forward and gently testing him. Checking that he was solid, that he truly was…real. Her next arm reached up too as she began to run her cold soft fingers over his bare chest and over his neck, the light fingers tracing his jawline and the curves of his muscles, absorbing the burning heat that radiated from him like an uncooled engine.

Her eyes were wide as she looked at him as if she was experiencing the sight for the first time.

"I don't believe it." She softly stated "you're…here"

As those gentle words left her pale soft lips, the door flew open and the terrifying glint of glasses and the screeching of old metal wheels immediately identified the man that wrenched Maka out of the cell without a word. Soul almost winced as the heavy door slammed shut, blocking out her sharp shouts and engrossing the cell once more in the dark half-light.

"Sososo do you know what day it is my pretty petal of a poppet?" The words were high and artificially happy as their rancid echoes swarmed in the smooth corridor.

"Shower day." Maka replied dully, having been through the ordeal enough times to be able to switch off and respond automatically.

"Yes my little flower dove, it is! You've learned so well these past few years, maybe you'll be released soon"

When she'd first been taken Maka had fought every inch of the way, every inch that is, until the beating. One evening Stein came down to her cell and told that should she misbehave once more, no matter how small an infraction, she would pay more dearly than it would be worth in any world.

She'd spat in his face.

He hadn't left till the next morning and when he did Maka had been left a broken soul, bleeding and shattered on the grungy floor.

The room Maka was taken to wasn't really a room at all. It was instead a cage of sorts. Clean, shining metal interlinked in a tight grid to make a floor, beneath the frosty vapours of the roaring subterranean river rippled up through the grill. The walls were made of the same design but ran around and sealed at the top to make a large cylindrical container. A thick glass window broke the regular side and through it Stein could be seen with an assortment of controls, levers and buttons at the desk.

Their purpose was quickly revealed as through the grids shot solid beams of water that slammed against her. She was thrown around like a ragdoll as Stein hammered at his desk firing bursts of water from different directions.

The icy water masked the warm tears that fled from her closed eyes. Her fingers grasped tightly at her own flesh as if to hold herself together under the barrage of harsh torrents. It was clear now why there were holes there, why the skin was red and bruised.

Still her eyes clenched themselves tight together, she counted and waited. Waited for it to end, waited to get back to the new warmth in her cell.

The water fell slowly from her, the blue tinge tinted her skin and her muscles shook involuntarily, sometimes clenching so forcefully that her body would twist and shake for short moments. She slowly walked back to the entrance and saw Marie waiting for her.

"Maka my dear girl, oh look at you." Sadness as sincere as a mother's wrapped each word as Marie gently hugged her with a pale yellow towel - its thick folds insulating and drying Maka under Marie's embrace. "I'm sorry I can't do more, I truly am."

"I know. I will never forget your kindness." Maka knew the woman had to tread lightly and carefully under Stein, for though they were a couple Stein would still be fiercely angry if he found his prisoners being treated with such sympathy.

"Come let's get you back before he comes out" She then called out to Stein, telling him that she would return Maka for him and bring him back a coffee – black, no sugar.

Stein's quiet "Thanks, I look forward to it." Made its way back to them.

As the metal door opened once again in the cell, Soul's eyes flitted open. He had been sitting asleep in front of the door so as to be woken by its movement and the light that would spill onto him.

"I'm sorry I can't leave the towel with you, but if Stein found out…" Marie started, Maka nodded, interrupting her and handing back the towel. Whilst she was now dry, her clothes still held damp and her skin was still chilled as she moved into her corner.

Her corner was close to where he sat, and so her frigid skin that searched for any trace of warmth in the surroundings picked up on what felt to her like a warm open oven sitting so close.

Her teeth chattered and he turned his head to look at her.

"What did he do?"

"Nothing, just a bit cold from the shower is all"

The chivalry that had been beaten and moulded into Soul by his mentors and what little he recalled of what Spirit told him whilst he had still been young and with honour reared its bright body in him. "Can I help? Do you … want to stay close to me? Simply because I'm warmer – I figure I wouldn't want my only cell mate to die on me" he nervously laughed.

Maka didn't respond immediately as she was still hesitant about his motives. _Maybe he just wants to get close to me; to beat me up like that monster did… _Her body disagreed as it started to shuffle towards him. She stopped herself _I'll survive on my own, I don't need him._

Soul noticed her start approaching before stopping, and decided that it was her choice. They didn't even know each other's names, yet here he was offering to become incredibly close to her.

Maka's body shook again as the damp cold soaked further into her bones, and her eyes began to burn as she silently started to cry, hating herself for refusing to let herself be helped. _I'm useless, why do I do this to myself? _

Soul noticed her softly shaking shoulders, she had returned to the curled up position he had seen her in earlier. Before he could stop himself he pushed himself over to her. "Like it or not, you need me, and I'll be damned if I get punished for your death." He said through gritted teeth.

She froze as his body pressed close against hers, his chest arching over her back and his arm reaching down to rest on her thigh. The effect was immediate, whatever was in contact with him began to tingle as life seeped back in, and whilst her mind was in turmoil her body wasn't. It followed bare instinct as it too leaned into Soul to get closer to his body that burned like an incandescent bulb.

"Please don't hurt me." Her shoulders were shaking again has she silently wept.

"I won't." He quietly sighed, hating himself for being so kind. _At least there's no one to see me._ He thought gratefully.

**A/N So basically I just wanted to describe Maka in a bit more detail seeing as I had only brushed over her when Soul first is imprisoned and saw this as a nice opportunity and then I got carried away and wrote nearly a whole chapter haha. Damn you TalorForever, this is all you and your stupid camping trips fault! xD**


	16. Chapter 16: An interesting discovery

**A/N: So now we finally have the beginnings of the SoMa you've been waiting for :P Enjoy!**

* * *

_-Chapter 16-_

An interesting discovery

* * *

"N'awww how sweet, look at them all cuddled together like little hamsters in a ball – Ooo that gives us an idea!" Stein's voice ululated around the small cell, running together to create a vile sound that tore at their eardrums.

Soul's arms had wrapped themselves like a blanket over Maka, and as they slept they had interlinked more closely, fitting together closely like two jigsaw pieces.

As Maka woke and realised that there was someone holding her in this intimate embrace, she screamed. Scrambling away from him and pushing him back with fright. Stein watched her scuttling with a grin that bared all his teeth.

His manic giggle echoed around as they both looked at him now, Soul had barely moved from his position. He felt stronger but was still exhausted. Stein's arms were crossed beneath his back as he leant forward steeply. His grey bleached lab coat hung forward with him, draping themselves over his shoulders.

As his face neared them, he turned on point towards Soul, before slowly revealing from behind him a large hypodermic needle that glinted maliciously as if mimicking its owner in the low light. Attached to that needle was a clear glass cylinder with numbers and various denotations.

At any other point Soul would have marvelled at its clarity and perfection, but that was for he had barely seen this new country or the marvels the Great Northern Cities had to offer.

"Just a quick visit today my pretty petals, really I'm just here for you my snow flower." Stein swayed as he walked towards Soul's hunched body.

He seemed not to care that the long needle was approaching him, or that his bowed head had exposed a perfect puncture point at the side of his neck.

"I find the best blood is from the core… Ohh that word sounds like a crow's call" Stein cawed imitating the dark birds as he approached.

The tip of the needle coldly pressed down into Soul's neck as Maka watched on stupefied. _He's out of my power league no point in fighting, hopefully this won't hurt too- _The thought was cut short as Stein jabbed down on the needle and pain exploded from the entry like a dazzling display of fireworks.

Short sharp breaths jerked in and out of Soul's throat as he focused on keeping silent and still. Moving would only worsen the agony. He could feel the cold steel inside of him, its temperature never seemed to adjust, it just kept on sucking the heat into it. He could feel the vacuum pulling him into himself where the needle was pulling the slow blood.

Soul tilted his head only slightly but the effect was immediate, the cords of muscle pulled themselves through the needle and as Soul's black pupils reduced to pin points. A single syllable choked out of his mouth in a cough "Ah".

The clear syringe filled and filled, it seemed to be taking forever as Soul tried to look at it without moving another muscle.

"Hoist the anchor me lassie! We be don 'ere!" Stein squawked as he pulled out the needle.

_Fuck this guy is nuts!_ Soul inwardly exclaimed. Blood seeped from the wound and Soul lifted his hand to compress it.

Soul looked up again, trying to ignore the ache in the side of his neck and top of his torso he saw Maka staring at him.

"Can I help you?" He queried, his words were slightly sharp as the pain made its way into his voice.

"Mh Mh" She responded softly "no one can help us, we're here until Stein gets tired of us or Shinigami feels like ordering our release, both of which are very unlikely." Her words trembled across the floor towards Soul, like timid creatures scared of being crushed.

"You know my name, but what is yours? You were awfully impolite to not have responded when I introduced myself" Soul continued without acknowledging her response. He knew he was being unduly unkind but he tired of her lack of manners and still held a grudge that she thought him unreal.

"Um, I'm…I…I'm uh…" Maka broke down into tears "I'm sorry, I can't remember much right now but I know my name is Maka" The words hurried out of her mouth like mice fleeing from fire, she curled up again as if fearing he would strike her.

Soul blew out some air in an aloof manner. "'Maka'. What an odd name."

"Well that's normal compared to yours." She quietly muttered.

A short bark of laughter escaped him; he hadn't been expecting that from her. It was a pleasant surprise to see she had some whip in that tongue. Perhaps she wasn't dead to the core just yet, though her resolve was soundly broken as was any hope of escape.

"I wonder what that Stein does with the samples he takes."

"I don't know, Marie said he always runs a barrage of tests on it but she didn't say anything specific…"

"I see." The conversation petered out after that, each returning to their own small bubble, finding ways to pass the time in amongst their web of thoughts – their private worlds.

***Stein's Laboratory***

"Marie, what do you think of the prisoners' states of mind? You think I 'm too mean on the girl, don't you?" Stein spoke quietly as he pressed his eyes into the sights of microscope, examining the drops of blood on the slide beneath.

"I don't know Frank, she's been here so long. She's crushed, you know that. She isn't going to try an escape and, well, perhaps you could ease up on her – she's so sad." Marie moved behind Stein, running her hands over his back and up to his shoulders, before resting her head on him. "The boy though, Soul, he knows he can't fight you but he is stubborn. If you should be hard on anyone it's him."

'We are not the masters of the sources of happiness, Marie; they ever elude the appointments we make with them, springing up when we least expect and fleeing when we would hold them close… We have the power to avoid or to heal certain evils, yes, but we cannot order happiness as if it were a meal in a restaurant'[1] Stein spoke philosophically, as if he had thought about this for some time. "True, I need not be so cruel, but if I let up for an instant, soften my ways then they might believe it prudent to change too – and you know how I despise unpredictability."

Marie smiled quietly at his bitter sarcasm. This was the Stein she loved. This was the reason she put up with his mania and tantrums, cleaned up his prisoners and accepted his flaws for he knew his own faults too.

"You're right, as ever. But you know what I think, and that is what you asked."

"Yes Marie. I'm so glad you're here…" Stein trailed off. His brow furrowed like a freshly ploughed field as he looked closely at the blood beneath.

"Marie…"

"Yes?"

"Put the current to 250 and pass me the Mendelev spirits and Sodium thiosulphate . We have something interesting here…"

Marie handed him the requested materials and moved to the dial, adjusting and then sending regular pulses of energy through the slide.

"Oh this is interesting indeed, very interesting. Now I wonder…" Stein used a small bulb to measure out the drops of Mendelev spirit onto the slide. The spirit looked like water but as it fell the light caught in it and glinted an amber gold, shimmering inside before disappearing.

Stein looked once more to the slide, twisting the lower body to magnify his subject.

"There appears to be something attached to the red cells. It looks so much like…." Stein trailed off again.

"Like what Frank, tell me." Marie's curiosity burned hot, the suspense was terrible.

"Marie, get the vial from patient number 5-8-7." Marie's eyes widened, now she knew something was unique about this boy's blood. Stein had nearly drained that patient's body of blood in order to fill as many vials as possible; in fact, she thought he would have killed that patient if it wasn't for Shinigami stepping in.

Marie hurried out, the double doors swinging asymmetrically behind her before thumping closed.

"What have we got here, hmmm?" Stein muttered to himself rhetorically.

***The cell***

Soul was debating whether to reinitiate the conversation, clearly she was unstable and had started to forget the most basic things about herself, not even knowing her last name for starters… he wondered whether she knew how long she had been there.

He would have asked too, but considered that keeping track of time in this windowless, dark prison would have been impossible.

He slowly ran his hands up and down the sides of his arms, feeling the warmth enter his hands. He rested them across his chest, like a seated mummy as he pulled his legs up. _It feels like the cold is seeping into my bones…_

It was the perpetual damp that stayed in the stone walls, and Soul was feeling it – not that he couldn't take it, but more that it was slightly uncomfortable.

These thoughts were the only thing to be interrupted by Maka's small question: "Where are you from?"

_Ah, she speaks. Now, do I lie or tell the truth… _

_**Say the truth, she's one puny girl and if she were to tell another they wouldn't believe her over you.**_

_You're still here… _

_**I'm always here you petulant child. I didn't think you were stupid enough to forget that, but I guess you are…**_

_I also forgot how quickly you give me headaches, you loud-mouthed midget._

The imp chuckled at his response _**Ohhh touched a nerve have I?**_

Soul looked up, his internal dialogue had kept him quiet for a few minutes and Maka had begun to wonder whether he'd heard her but she hadn't the courage to speak again.

"I'm from the Japanese colonies in South America" He stated, not following with a question as he expected she had another.

"Who are you?"

"Me? Now I'm a worthless nobody, just like you." He stopped there; he wanted to make her ask what he used to be – if only to stoke his ego – it worked.

"Umm… Who were you?" She hesitantly asked.

"I was First General of the Colonial Invasion Force. Japan had been unable to claim any more land and was constantly on the defensive – trying to hold it's footing in the continent – once I took over though that all changed [2], I led my army to victory after victory and against all odds, annihilating every foe and gaining my country great new lands. Then I lost myself, it was a battle where we were greatly outnumbered, and I allowed my blood-lust to overtake me. I destroyed the enemy almost single handed before turning on my own men. After that I fled – they dishonourably discharged me and placed an execution order; I went from being the most loved and powerful man in that land to being the most hated and despised. I committed a number of crimes on my way out, using the souls of those I had killed to grant me greater power – until I fought with that Shinigami, the bastard took my swords and left me with nothing. He told me to come here but not for what reason. I had no purpose and I couldn't stay where I was so here I am. That's my story." _Or rather, all that I want you to know._

As he had been speaking Maka had watched him, each word was perfectly formed and each expression perfectly controlled. It seemed that no matter what he said, no matter the anger or bitterness his words described, his face remained this serene mask.

"Surely your emperor was more powerful than you?" She wondered out loud.

"Hah." Soul spat. "Who do you think the soldiers would have followed? Some fat man they'd never seen or the one who'd led them from the front lines and seen them every day? I could have destroyed the emperor if I had seen fit. But I just loved the action too much." He seemed to say the last sentence with an ounce of remorse as opposed to the quiet fervour he'd spoken earlier with.

"And you? What's your story, Maka-who knows not her family name?"

Maka's eyes welled up at the cruel comment. She swallowed and blinked hard before taking a breath to steady herself.

"I'm from Death City, I lived with my mum for most of my life, but she died when I was 17. I found various jobs to support myself from that point. My dad left when I was much younger. My mum told me later that he'd got drunk and boarded the Pan American Train that goes to the tips of both continents and it was headed south when he'd boarded it. She said that we were never going to see him again and that it was fine because he was no good anyway."

"What were their names?" It was only polite to ask.

"My mum was Kami, my dad was Spirit."

Soul's eyes widened "…Did you say, Spirit?"

* * *

**A/N: Hey so remember a while back I promised longer chapters since it's the holidays, well the way I see it is because I updated/update more frequently, I don't have that obligation, Capiche? Also, you may wonder why Stein is so controlled at times, I'll leave you to figure that one out - it should be pretty easy. And with that I leave you till maybe Wednesday… depending on your reviews ^.^**

**[1] A quote from Pascal Bruckner**

**[2] Everything always changes when the fire nation attacks xD**


	17. Chapter 17: The light room

**A/N: Yes, just for you Talor. It seems everyone else has forsaken me…  
Can't believe this is chapter 17… This has become longer than I ever thought it would…**

* * *

_-Chapter 17-_

The light room

* * *

"…Did you say, Spirit?" _No, this isn't possible; they can't be the same person. 'A drunkard'? Spirit never touched alcohol… _

"What did he look like, Spirit?" Soul hoped to all the deities he could name that they weren't the same.

_**What are you doing idiot, she doesn't know the relation so keep it that way. If anything she's now going to wonder why you're so interested in her mess of a father.**_

"I don't remember much but he had red hair, really red hair and I guess he used to nice but then he left us and that's it, I really don't remember much. My mum didn't keep any photos that I know of… Why do you ask?"

_Crunch point. Please believe me please believe me._

"Oh nothing, I was just being polite."

"Hm, for a second I would have sworn it sounded like you knew him… But that would be impossible, right?"

"Right." He deadpanned. Thankfully she hadn't pushed the subject though her curiosity was now piqued. "So, do you know why Stein has you here?" Soul continued, tactfully changing the topic.

"I'm pretty sure it's because of my –" A loud interruption in the form of a wheeled manic man burst through the door.

"CIAOCIAO SEMPAI-KUNS HOW ARE YOU ALL DOING? I'LL LET YOU KNOW THAT SCHOOL RULES DICTATE NO ROMANCE IN THE CLASSROOM! NYAHAH!" Stein screeched at the top of his voice, the words slicing through the cell like knives but with all the clamour of a thousand pots and pans.

Stein's voice dropped in pitch and tone dramatically. His voice was deep and growling as he said "Oh Soul, tut-tut, seems you've been called to the headmaster's office, off we go now."

Stein didn't give Soul a chance to think as he seemed to move so fast that not even light couldn't hold on, the strong hand clasped around the back of Soul's trouser belt as Stein flew out of the cell, the door closing behind him with a strike from his wavelength.

They blitzed through dead doors and corridors making a wild racket. Stein's coat that he seemed to wear permanently billowed out and was whipping around Soul like a pack of snarling dogs.

The sudden stop threw Soul against the solid chair which didn't move on impact.

"We're here, oh and I lied about the headmaster, turns out I just wanted to play some more ahihihi"

_Don't think it. Don't think it. Don't think it. _Soul repeated to himself.

_**Think what? That it can't get any worse than it already has? Oh, oops did I say that? **_The Imp sarcastically drawled_** Good thing I don't believe in jinxes. **_

Unfortunately Fate did.

What greeted Soul was an object that looked like a table on its end, except instead of being made of wood it was made of hundreds of wires some rusted, others new, woven and threaded together – a bed made of glistening metal. Around this bed lay a sand filled ring, the grains numerous and golden like ground corn. The floor matched their cell; moss-ridden stone spilled out from the bed and met a wall that curved up above them in a large black dome.

The room was poorly lit; a few wide bulbs that were overly large glowed depressingly from the entrance, the weak light barely making it to the other side of the room. What the pathetic rays did reveal however was a large squared lever, its two bare legs leading up to a single wooden handle.

"Hmm, something's missing from the picture. What could it be, what could it be? Oh yes! YOU!"

Stein pivoted around, his coat once more throwing itself around him like a spanish dancer. Stein's hands grabbed Soul's shoulders and picked up the semi-stunned body, roughly shoving him into the wire mesh sheet. Stein's forearm pushed up against Soul's bare chest as his other worked to wrap more metal coils around his body. Soul's head hung limply, his chin resting against his chest.

The metal squirmed and writhed around Soul like icy snakes, the shining bodies flickering in the wavering light and pinching into his exposed flesh.

"Next step, next step, what is it I wonder?" Stein strolled round and round, each footfall softly grinding the sand beneath as his hand stroked a non-existent beard like a wise man.

Stein hummed before bumping his head on something that hung from a rusted metal skeleton.  
"Of course!" He exclaimed as he opened the faucet attached to it.

Droplets rained from the dark down onto Soul, their tiny body falling like petals in the still air. Soul made the mistake of blinking, as the caustic water touched his eyes causing them to burn. He soon discovered why as he licked his lips, the stomach wrenching saltiness was unbearable.

_What the hell is the point of all this!_

_**I believe we are soon to find out, or rather you are. I'll see you a bit later… **_The Imp left with a spiteful laugh.

"That's it! Hey presto we are ready to go!"

Stein wrapped his two hands around the wooden lever and slammed it down to the floor, the effect was immediate. The room lit up like a sun, all around bulbs which had been hidden exploded into new life, their tall, rippled transparent bodies alive with new energy.

The sealed lightning inside of them was coursing around at a burning pace and now the contraption revealed itself. They were all parts of a sadistically glamorous circuit; millions of Volts poured themselves through Soul's clenched body.

The muscles spasmed in one long marathon, every sinew strained itself against his skin making every part of him toned and shining. The flashing lights sparked a crazy dance around the room and steam began to evaporate from where Soul's body was in contact with the frame.

The pain was more than excruciating, but designed to be bearably unbearable. Each nerve felt like it was exploding, under the assault of a million blades, with this senseless agony that he was in. The wires that were once chilled and silent hummed angrily as they bit and clawed red hot at his body, all under the eerily wide and still eyes of Stein.

If Soul could have he would have clawed the skin away from where the wires touched, such was this blinding fire, he would have screamed too, screamed hard enough to draw blood, to choke himself to escape from this torture but his mouth was clenched shut, his teeth biting into each other, squeaking under the pressure.

Soul's hands clenched involuntarily, coiled so fiercely that his nails split the skin if his palm and dug further. Blood dripping listlessly from between his fingers, oozing out like syrup. His smooth lips forced closed in a silent scream, the air long expelled from his lungs. His heart beat furiously, beginning to trip over itself.

A heavy clank signalled the end of the first experiment.

"Hm, nothing happened. I guess we'll have to do repeats just to be sure."

The lever soullessly fell back into position, allowing the current to rip through the circuit and create the living hell once again.

"Come on, this worked last time…" Stein quietly spoke to himself under the ear splitting crackle of untamed electricity and the pale strings of smoke and steam that laced themselves around Soul.

_**Argh what on earth! Soul what the hell is going on! **_The Imp burst from whatever corner it had been lurking in.

_I…..Don….Don't know. _It seemed this suffocating scene even choked his thoughts.

**Fix it! **The Imp screeched at him before flashing into the darkness.

Soul couldn't think straight, the pain overwhelmed his mind with its sharp claws that tore and ripped and burned. It was the burning that was the worst, he had started to smell his own flesh cooking and were he able he would have thrown up.

His eyes rolled back and he began to lose consciousness, to enter a daze that he wasn't quite aware of.

What happened next surprised Soul, his right arm glowed white and went numb. His eyes watched out of their periphery his arm transform into a long curved metal blade that burst the coils holding it.

"Perfect." That one word grumbled out between Stein's lips as he cut the circuit again, plunging them back into the half-light before knocking Soul out with a strike from his wavelength. Not that that was particularly necessary, as Stein knew that Soul would be beyond exhausted. He fired further blasts at the latches causing them to split open, and watched Soul's ragdoll body drop clumsily to the floor – contorted into bizarre, inhuman shapes.

Stein returned to his chair and lent over, picking up Soul's ankle as he slowly wheeled into the corridor and returned him to his cell.

Maka's nose crinkled at the smell when the door opened as an unconscious Soul was carelessly thrown in, his face grinding against the floor and the rest of his body reflexively curling in.

Spasms and twitches still danced occasionally along him, triggering the over worked muscles underneath to jolt and shake.

Maka watched this dance with awe for she had never known someone to be so damaged by Stein's light room. Her skin had never burned, her body not so mangled as Soul's – it made her wonder whether Stein was becoming more the monster or if Soul had done something to upset him.

_This man with the burning eyes who announced himself so cordially, who held is chin high even when his face was bowed, what could the explanation be?_

She would wait until he woke to ask, that is if he remembered what had happened to him.

Stein hadn't left however, he looked at her with a stillness she had never seen before.

"Madness is not a state of mind, it's a place. Let's go there… shall we?" [1]

* * *

**Sorry to end it there, but it seemed a good place to.**

**[1] post/28330280374/were-all-mad-here**


	18. Chapter 18: What is madness?

**A/N: DemonEvangelista 3, Thank-you and I will :)  
**

**Wildface97 Hahah well sorry about risking your breakfast there and Ohh I hadn't considered making those two characters test subjects... The plot thickens!  
**

**Talor - Someone's sharp ^^ (insert canned laughter at play on words) I figured that I should keep some canon, seeing as how I've toyed with everything else – 'sides it's nice to have a few anchors. And I say canon - it won't be exactly like in the anime/manga. You're pretty close with Maka, but not quite - you'll see what I mean soon enough though (just not his chapter). **

* * *

_-Chapter 18-_

What is madness?

* * *

Maka regarded Stein detachedly, looking at him from her side of the room. Soul's back was covered in lines of various degrees of burns. Some were black and charred – these were the ones that made her feel sick, made her stomach churn like a stormy sea; others were bright red and swollen in long blisters.

But the smell trumped whatever sight she had – the smell swamped the room, its vapours painting everything with burnt meat. She pitied him, knowing that he had had it much worse than she had.

"You don't quite know what I mean, do you Girl?"

Maka silently stared back. She only understood her madness, the temptation to fall into the pit, just release reality and this dark place – but she never did, never because for some reason she hoped it would get better, for some reason she knew that she had to keep going. Her instinctual will to survive was stronger than her conscious wish to die.

Stein continued; her silence his cue.

"Madness is a beautifully dark garden, a place where nothing is wrong, where each detail stands out in crisp vivacity." Stein's voice was becoming faster, more feverish and loud, the assonance sharp and hissing. "It's a home where the impossible does not exist, where what you wish comes true, where – where dreams are reality! Where you are truly free! Do you understand now Girl!?"

Stein's voice fell and his tone was quiet, he continued without pause - his voice undulating slowly in the cell like waves that lap softly at the beach during a still night.

"This deathly evil that you imagine to be Madness is wrong, Madness is more intricate and flawless than you can imagine - a vast array of vivid colours, where light is not white but stained and drawn and painted, – but you can't imagine, No. You have to see it, this wondrous place I visit, with insects as large as the sun and demons that creep in your whispers. But be sure to bring a map, Girl, for the night is dark and cold and the moon shines bright black whilst the sky is pitch white, bring a map for the trees can speak and dogs can sing and humans howl in rage. Bring a map as in this world the rain falls into the clouds and sunsets rise, this world you can't imagine, this world you have to visit."

Stein silently stepped back and the door gently swung into place – the hinges too fearful to make a sound and the lock too frightened to make a noise as it linked hands with the wall.

Soft footfalls gently fell away from the cell, leaving Maka to think about what Stein had said.

His words lingered in the air; like heavy flies they caught in her breath, blinded her eyes and fell in her ears.

She was unsettled. Stein's words had wormed their way under her skin, making it crawl as she felt she was drowning in a pool of maggots. Their small cold bodies wriggling and writhing on her.

But it was just her mind playing tricks on her, just Stein's way – his aura and words. She had always known Stein was frighteningly smart, but the way he could make her feel with just words – she trembled at the thought of what he could truly do if he so wished.

She looked again at the mutilated body that lay away from her, the muscles still twitched, but they were less frequent. His shallow breaths barely raised his body as his mind instinctively reduced the movement – she could see the skin was tight and when he inhaled the skin only stretched further.

The air that escaped his cracked lips was scratchy and small, coming in small pants and whispers.

"Oh Soul…" Maka whispered, her heart torn to see another in such a decrepit, pain-filled state.

The only solace she could think of was that the cold stone beneath would soothe his front, and though it consoled her but a little, her thoughts of Soul were enough to pull Stein's bugs from her skin and free her senses of his catching insanity.

Time passed quickly, or slowly. It felt like she had been running with her thoughts for hours but knew how deceiving that could be. She focussed on emptying her mind of the clutter that rampaged like wild beasts and carefully dropped into a sleep she wouldn't remember.

A quiet groan drew itself out Soul's mouth during his semi-conscious state before he fully awoke, and when he woke, so did all his nerves. The sudden and now constant barrage of pain was exhausting and he'd barely been awake but already he just wanted to go back to sleep, to escape.

His head was facing Maka, her body more relaxed as her eyes gently lay shut and her chest slowly rose and fell.

"Maka…" Soul hoarsely breathed to himself, the sound of her name was slowly growing on him – not parasitically but rather like a curious thought that makes its home in your mind and refuses to leave.

He said it again, quietly but aloud nonetheless. _Maybe she could get that woman - What was her name again? Maria? Marie? Ah who cares, as long as she can help me…_

The small sound was enough to cause Maka to jump awake with a small gasp, which she let out in a sigh as she realised who it was calling her name.

"Soul? How are you feeling?"

_What does it look like?! _He shouted internally, but responded quietly. "Just dandy, better than a summer's day"His lips cracked painfully as he spoke.

"Oh um. I, I kinda deserved that huh?" She laughed nervously. "Stupid question… mm, uhm can, can I… Can I help you?" She responded sheepishly, her eyes downcast and her words stuttered.

"Anything to stop the pain." He stated, his mind was sharpened by his condition, he focussed on rationalising and reasoning it away – as such his face was a blank mask as he introverted the signals from his tortured skin.

Maka looked up in disbelief. _How is he so controlled? His voice sounded so… empty._

Soul was becoming irritated now with her lack of response, the anger was a thankful distraction and he used the energy to disguise the pain.

"Well?" The word rippled with the underlying vexation in its owner, not having been stripped so thoroughly as the previous sentence had.

Maka whimpered slightly, recoiling from the man's hard word. "Mi…Miss Marie…Maybe….maybe can, can help?"

_I'm in a cell with a useless wretch of a girl. This is how I live the rest of my life? This is how I, First General Soul Eater Evans dies? _He thought with a mixture of anger, sharp sarcasm, and self-disgust. _I need a distraction. Where's a good drink when you need one._

The soft clinking of ice in a cup gently travels around Soul's mind._**Something like this? Is this it? **_

_You bastard._ Soul spat with hatred in his Imp was most certainly tormenting him; in one hand it held a clear glass tumbler with three granite squares which steamed with cold, they swum in the golden spirit. The next hand held the old bottle that Soul no longer had, the beautiful concoction that he had once savoured so carefully.

Maka watched Soul's red eyes narrow, wondering what he was thinking. Suddenly the memory of him holding her, enveloping her with his warm body blossomed in her mind. She no doubt would have caught hypothermia if he hadn't helped her, and he had done so even against her wishes.

_Like a knight from a fairytale._

The doubts of his existence as anything but a hallucination returned with a vengeance and her heart was consumed with wicked doubt. _No, he is real. He is real._ She repeated to herself like a mantra but still she inched towards him, her hand tentatively reaching out.

She needed to check.

As she made contact Soul's skin flinched and she recoiled her hand reflexively, but he did not wake. A barely distinguishable frown quietly hid itself on his face. She reached out again, running her fingertips over his eyes and through his hair.

"You are real." She mouthed to herself.

She was certain that Soul's emotional armour was strong and deep, no doubt he had been hurt badly enough for him to completely shut everyone out and continue life almost without feeling.

It was probably what had allowed him the ruthlessness to become a First General at such a young age. But surely it didn't go all the way through? Surely he still had some heart deep within that iron cage?

She thought about him more, her brain now hooked on this steely man like he was a drug – involuntarily addicting. She wished she could be strong like him, be able to control herself and change who she was at the flick of the switch. But she couldn't, and she slumped back wallowing in her despair.

*Soul's mind*

The Imp sucked air through its pointed teeth_. __**Such coarse language from such a fine young man, Mother taught you better - didn't she? If she could hear you now… **_

_She would be proud. Proud of how quickly I was promoted, how my greatness was acknowledged._

_**Oh come now Soul. **_The Imp quietly spoke. _**Do you really believe that? And to say it to me of all people. I live in your mind Soul. Don't think I don't know what exactly goes on in the deep recesses in here. **_It voice was beginning to become heated.

_**You think she would be proud of how you butchered so many people? How you arranged 'accidents and illnesses' to remove people from your path? How you dug up filth on good men and forced them onto their own swords. **_

The Imp's voice was fiercely calm.

_**And you think you did it all on your own? Where do I play into this you snivelling brat. You would be nothing without me. I was your backbone, your determination and diligence. So don't think for one minute you can just throw me away when you feel like it. You've let me in now, and no pathetic party tricks will ever get me out. **_

_**Now that that is over, let's return to being civilised, shall we? Your uncle… Silvermoon, always used to have a drink after a hard day. It's been a hard day for you hasn't it?**_

Soul bowed his head in acceptance, thankful that he had been bested only by himself.

The Imp acknowledged his victory by extending to Soul the glass which it had been drinking from. Soul was careful not to touch the Imp as he took the glass from it and drank heavily, relishing the memory of the taste.

The Imp simply smiled at Soul and refilled the glass.** Now doesn't that feel better? **

It did. So much so that Soul was having difficulty snatching the bottle from the creature so he could finish it.

_**Don't be greedy… actually… **_The Imp's eyes glinted _**Here. **_It offered the bottle which Soul drank from, as though intent on emptying it.

*The cell*

Black vapours misted out of Soul's mouth, gently twirling and spiralling around him. Their thin bodies spread over his bare back and soothingly laid themselves upon him. Had Maka been awake she would have seen Soul almost disappear beneath the inky darkness.

This dead cloud soon flowed back into Soul and whilst nothing visual had changed the nerves beneath did not feel the pain quite so violently.

As Soul finished the bottle an overwhelming nausea burst into his stomach and he woke with a start, spinning around to look at the rusted drain cover as he threw up. The burning in his mouth and the bitter taste on his tongue made him wretch long after he had emptied his stomach. The pale bile lurched its way onto the crumbling grate and draped itself over. It smelt foul and sharp.

Soul paid it no heed however, wiping his mouth with his hand and then scraping it off onto the wall before turning over and going back to sleep.


	19. Chapter 19: The Imp meets Maka

**A/N: I'm putting this babe at the end – it fits better with my responses. I delight in your contentment.**

* * *

_-Chapter_ 19-**  
**

The Imp meets Maka

* * *

Maka woke but did not move as she heard Soul throwing up; dark whispers shouted in her ears like demonic monsters screaming for a way out and the more she listened the clearer it became. She heard one voice, one menacing, cold voice, and as she did it heard her listening.

It heard her heart beat faster and her thoughts quicken. It heard her blood pulse and her small soul quiver and shake, and it turned to her and felt her hair stand on end.

Its invisible body was there but not there in the dark cell, not even a shimmering in the air - yet Maka knew it as though it gave her solely the knowledge of its location but not a detail more. She knew it like one knows a memory and looked to where she recalled its insubstantial face to be, and through the constant background hissing came a dangerous voice, a voice that stirred things within her she didn't know existed; the demons within her that coiled and twisted at an unheard greeting.

_**Hello Maka.**_

She gasped at the voice that did not exist. It did not exist because it was not spoken aloud, yet she remembered it being so, she remembered hearing it. It had said her name._ How does it know my name?!_

_**I know your name because he knows your name, Maka. And he has been thinking about it an awful lot of late. It really is becoming rather trying.**_

"Who are you?" Maka frightfully whispered into the claustrophobic nothingness. The darkness was becoming heavier and suffocating the longer the being spoke.

_**Don't you see me, Maka? Look at me. I'm laying on the floor covered in burns. **_The Imp's voice was devilishly amused that it was able to speak to someone new, to warp and confuse her.

Maka looked at Soul, looked through where she felt the thing to be and in a flash saw it. This fiendish thing which stared unblinking into her sweet eyes, which held a snarling grin that showed teeth like a wolf's bared back in anger, which scraped its claws together as it tilted its vile horned head.

Just a flash was all she saw, but that glimpse was enough – was enough to startle her, to send her heart beating faster than it could cope as the adrenalin surged around her body. Her chest tightened and terror stopped the scream that wanted so desperately to escape, to wake her fairy-tale knight and have him smite the being that was but was not in front of her.

_**I really oughtn't to have jumped out like that. I do apologise. **_The Imp's sarcasm and lack of emotion came across clearly. _**But you, you are quite something, to be able to know my existence, to speak with me... Mind I am helping you here for I can leave as I like, yet to comprehend me… **_It seemed to speak to itself, as though Maka was merely an observer to an internal monologue that was the daily torment of the figment.

_**You are very interesting.**_

With that last phrase the life-sucking feeling that tore at her mind and yanked at her chest disappeared as did the coiling worms inside of her. _What was that monster? And what did it mean 'I'm laying on the floor covered in burns'… Soul was there, not that beast. But… The cogs in her mind turned heavily, unwilling to continue to their predetermined conclusion, the only answer that could be._

"Who are you Soul?" She spoke to the air but no longer held her voice low.

Soul rolled over to face her, crouching up he raised his head apparently awake - though his eyes still were shut. His face bobbed up as he supported himself on all fours.

She noticed the thin black vapours in his mouth and around his lips slowly being pulled to and fro by his breath and when he opened his eyes, they were not his own. These eyes were black to the core and the edges were undefined like thick air that drifted wantonly. The grin that stretched slowly across his teeth mirrored something just as dreadful. It showed a basal lust, an animalistic greed and an instinctual desire.

In him Maka saw that devil. Everywhere she looked she saw that monsters mark and she pushed herself back against the wall, to get away from Soul – from the rawness emanating from him.

"**Oh Maka, don't run away." **Soul's voice had changed from his usual smooth tones to a gravelly bass and now the devouring, insatiable and uncontrolled lust in his voice was clear and almost violent.

"**You smell so beautiful.**" Maka's heart began to pound hard once more, her blood fled through her veins noisily and she tried to move deeper into the cell, to get away from him.

"**I wonder if you taste as gorgeous as you smell. I haven't eaten in such a while**." Soul laughed heavily and jeeringly, snarling as he slowly crawled towards her – his limbs heavy and forced.

Maka had unwittingly forced herself into a corner, her fear had taken grasp and it began to twist its gnarled hands into her stomach, wrenching it around within her and tearing at the underside of her skin.

Soul continued his approach, his tongue lolled out of his mouth like a dog and his eyes were wide with desire. "**This anticipation is killing me!**" Soul roared into Maka's face as his smooth hands travelled up her pale, shivering skin.

Those cool fingers traced her lips almost romantically as she held herself stock still, petrified of what further movement might entice in the beast in front of her. Soul pushed his fingers into her mouth and pulled her jaw open, cutting the gums with his nails before removing his hand and licking the blood clean.

Soul dragged his fingernails across her skin and down her neck and back, leaving hard red and in some parts bleeding traces against her body before stopping at her shoulder. He inched closer, and she could feel his sickly sweet breath pant against her neck and along her jawline.

"**You are ambrosia to my taste.**" Soul vilely spoke as he dragged his tongue across her hot skin. He bit sharply into her flesh, breaking the skin and forcing the blood to exit in small beads which he lapped up.

The bite elicited a pained gasp from Maka who had submissively been accepting his actions without fight.

She had held her eyes shut, not knowing which was worse – seeing him like this or not knowing what he was going to do next.

She felt his cold hand lift her chin up to him, to force her to look at him as he bit at her lips now, pulling at them, tugging incessantly.

_Look at him. Look at him! This isn't Soul. Wake him up! _Maka shouted to herself.

"**But it is Soul, my pretty little meal, and you are a dirty vixen who loves every dark thing I do.**" He ended with a coarse and remorseless laugh.

Maka forced open her eyes which felt like they were weighted down with skyscrapers. She looked at him and saw his eyes close to hers. Those eyes were deep and endless, like an inconsolable abyss she felt like she was falling into him. His face was so close their noses almost touched; close enough to feel the coldness sliding off his skin.

His tongue disturbingly licked his lips as he moved closer. "**Don't be afraid now, just keep calm; keep quiet. Don't make a noise my gentle bird…**" His right hand was gripping her shoulder tightly, painfully so. It felt as though he was intending to break the limb off as his next hand moved and was roughly travelling up her leg and against her thigh.

She screamed at his inhumane face and as soon as the sound departed her, those eyes flashed alive with the familiar fiery red. It exploded from the centres outward and enveloped the darkness – burning it away like wildfire.

Soul threw himself back from her, breathing the poisonous vapours deeply in he choked. Hacking coughs shook their way through him as each breath he inhaled felt like he was drawing in smoke from a hellish fire.

Soul looked at Maka but she was too transfixed to move. His normal mask was gone now and all the feelings of remorse and self-disgust bubbled to the surface as his eyes pricked. He felt sick again, much worse than before but now caused by the guilt.

"I'm so sorry." Those three words scraped and grated out of Soul's mouth which opened again as though he wanted to say something else but decided against it.

He slid himself back into the corner, leaning away from her against the wall – hiding his face ashamedly as he returned to an inward torment that none could ever know or see.

Maka never thought she would feel relieved see Stein enter the cell, but as he did now he couldn't have had better timing.

"What is this filthy smell? This revolting odour that pours from this cell." Stein breathed deeply through his nose, a dry sound that changed in pitch as his lungs filled.

Stein's glasses lit up as he stared down at Soul's self-hating shape. "You. You vile monster, polluting my home!" Stein almost screamed as he strode powerfully forward, throwing Soul to the side before slamming a scarily strong kick into him. Muffled cracks danced through the air briefly as several of Soul's ribs cracked.

"You have no place here; and dare to use my subject!" Stein picked up Soul again and threw him against the other wall, his body thumping against it with force and his head smacking back against the stone.

"**Why do you speak to me like I'm someone else? Don't you know words hurt?**" Soul stood up straight, his eyes dead and unseeing and his voice feigning the emotion his words spoke of as blood dripped beautifully from his mouth and over his gentle lips.

Stein mercillessly slammed forward into him, knocking the air out of Soul and placed his broad palm against his forehead.

"He is not yours to play with! He is MINE!" Stein screeched as his hand glowed white as he poured his wavelength against the demon; to push it out of Soul's mind for the host had lost the battle within himself.

The cell lit up brilliantly, the unnatural light splitting apart the darkness that had locked Soul in a deep hole within his mind with a distinct line. It was now a battle between the two that raged as each sought victory - Stein to retrieve his docile subject and survive, the Imp to gain access to Stein's huge spiritual well. The energy that he had was incredibly attractive to the fiendish creature and it wanted to devour Stein with all its existence.

Stein's blinding light heated the cell to an inferno, as though it drew its strength directly from the sun but the Imp just absorbed it continuously, its swelling darkness cold and lifeless. The way the Imp's form grew and contorted did not haze Stein as he threw more fire into the disconsolate chasm – hoping to burn away the impure and diseased.

Maka watched the light display in pain, for her pupils could contract no further yet still she held her eyes open. Stein was yet to unleash his full power but who could know that, as his wavelength magnified and multiplied in strength.

The Imp's claws still grabbed onto Soul's mind but its putrid body was starting to be slowly burned and singed.

"**You win…for now.**" The imp's voice gurgled through the bloodied mouth and bruised lips of Soul before its appearance dissipated faster than steam into the air or the switch of a light.

Soul's body was close to annihilated, new welts and cuts had ripped into existence, the blood oozing, dripping and running down him like thick paint over the still fresh burns and blisters.

Stein spoke dismissively as he left the cell, as though nought had passed - the words dropped perfunctorily from his mouth "You have a lot of explaining to do, Soul."

**A/N: Gosh that was therapeutic to write to say the least.**

**Talor – I'm glad you think so, I was thinking about it actually and was starting to doubt whether it was gonna work well – I have yet to decide to what extent he'll transform, or what will happen to that aspect of the canon (Wouldn't mind some tips?) And yea you pretty much hit the spot with Maka, it's just not like the Eagle vision out of Assassins creed haha She'll most likely have nightmares about the Imp – Oh shit just got an idea! :D And I hope this chapter clarified the black smoke – It's a physical manifestation of the Imp.**

**Take My Picture – Thank you! That's what I like to hear :)**

**Kid love – You really are gonna have to tell me where that reference is from, I feel so uneducated right now o.o**

**Argh, you guys rock. You really do, and you don't realise how beneficial your (perhaps rhetorical) questions are into giving me ideas! Thanks for reading this – though I wonder whether some just skip to their name :P Anyways, I'm writing these later and later at night – I have a revolting amount of revision and work, essays and write-ups I should be doing, but fuck them. Fuck my life. I'll live in a hut on the beach somewhere and mooch of the state :P **

**Post Script- Updated now because I won't be to on the weekend, and because I had it written, so this counts for this weekend. Cool? Cool.**


	20. Chapter 20: Into the breach

**A/N: The Imp in this and the following scenes, unless stated otherwise, looks completely human but is referred to interchangeably as the imp, prince, man gentleman w/e you get the picture. Fricking delight in my endeavours or Imma braps you upside yo hayd. :)**

* * *

_-Chapter 20-_

Into the breach.

* * *

Soul, exhausted from his prior exertions and from Stein's kindness, would have fallen quickly into his dark ocean of dreams was it not for Maka's trembling voice "Soul, what happened? What was that?" She seemed reluctant to believe her own eyes which prickled with tears as she received a flinty response "Nothing. I apologise for the sight."

"Look at me Soul" Maka pleaded.

He complied silently, meeting her watery gaze with eyes whose fire seemed to burn like a star – a million miles away, surrounded by darkness, fighting through space just to be seen - to be able to breathe.

The lack of emotion and passion she saw there spoke volumes to Maka, she understood that his detachedness was not simply an affectation but a consequence of something hidden, something she was not yet privy to – But soon was to explore intimately.

That cell was devoid now of life, not that the two parties were no longer there or no longer living, but that they had removed themselves from the waking world, seeking respite in the adage of 'It is always better in the morning'. As much of a truism as it may be, the journey to the next waking moments would be riddled with fear and chaos, a journey that would feel like an age though last but the night awaited.

Soul's wakefulness no longer necessitated, he fell quickly asleep – Maka, however, took several moments more, as she focused on dispelling the unease that coiled in her stomach like heavy chains, and removing the fear that lingered still of Soul's unexplained actions.

She would find out what his real story was, or would die trying – something she felt rather unfamiliarly dramatic thinking and hoped that it wouldn't come to that.

As Soul walked away from reality, the Imp greeted him at the door.

It mocked him as it wore a suit most akin to that of a doorman, and indeed it was his role for as he opened that dripping crimson door it grinned most mischievously.** "Wonderful weather we're having, Sir"**

Soul ignored it, but continued through nonetheless.** "Please"** It gestured to a charred leather seat **"Sit"**

Soul sat – comfortably resting his arms on the marble table in front as he looked around the inky swell surrounding them. **"Oh I do apologise, how inconsiderate of me to not give us appropriate scenery."**

The next time Soul blinked the darkness shimmered like waves and flashed into a familiar sight, a memory.

A gentle hum of tired men fills the space where once there was silence. Soft chinking of ice in glasses and the harder sounds of tin against stone as tankards were placed down with a drunken delicacy.

Familiar smells of wood smoke and the light colours of an oak floor spread out around him. It was the Inn he had stayed at for his encounter with Aelia.

"**Remember now, do we? You see, this was rather effortless, just recycling old memories makes my life much easier, but we aren't here to discuss our loving affair, you are here to be pre-occupied."**

The Imp snaps its clubbed fingers and the black nails scratch against each other loudly as Soul forgets the encounter and is lost in his past.

"**Always polite to invite the neighbours 'round."** The Imp slyly grinned to itself as it left its attention for Soul's mind to turn to the vulnerable girl sleeping just a few metres away.

The heavy chiming of a doorbell enters Maka's mind and suddenly she stands in front of a foreign grandiose door. Grandiose isn't large enough a word to describe what she sees. The double-doors stand tall, tall like the great redwoods of centuries old that would grow into the heavens were they able.

The doors are painted in a design of looping swirls and flowing hooks that ripple over the thick grain and knots of the wood, dark colours laying heavily against the scene. The crimson and black merging and depicting a thousand scenes at once yet unable to focus on any one, like a crowd that each try to have their story heard above the others.

Maka could have stared at the ornate canvas forever but was unable to, for the great beasts had begun to fall backwards - opening. Their hinges were as large as her head and clashed against the design with shining silver, binding the doors to great stone pillars. Bright gold chains began to lash themselves together in front of her as the doors soared upwards to match the behemoth pillars which themselves were sombre and cool.

Simply looking at these pillars re-grounded Maka, stopped her falling into the almost moving architecture of the door's painting as their solemn stance resisted the fires of chaos.

She pulled her eyes back to the slow movement in front of her, to look at the mesmerising dance of light that tripped over the amber gold which criss-crossed the entrance like a fisherman's net barring any passage. Maka only now noticed it had not been hanging there when she first looked.

The doors had opened fully behind the interlinked chains and Maka stared through into such darkness that she felt vertigo jump into her stomach and make it spin like a carousel.

"**Pardon me, my lady. I'm afraid I forgot the lights - most careless."** A disembodied voice travelled through as the light tinkling of a pull-chain echoed out to her and the light revealed a heavenly space. Beautiful fields and gorgeous towns revealed themselves to her. She wanted to run into the clean smells that wafted out, the fresh spring air and the aromas of contentment.

The only obstacle was that net that blocked her, held together like a jacket by an ornate lock. The lock had seemed to become progressively more complicated over the course of Maka's seeing past it. "How do I get past?" She muttered. The Imp revealed itself as a young man, most unlike its true form.

"**I fear it is quite the conundrum to the inexperienced, but fret not as its designs are indubitably esoteric but not necessarily hampering." **Seeing the perplexed look that she gave him, the Imp smiled graciously - though he full well knew that she wouldn't have an inkling as to the meanings of his words **"It is known only to a select few how to open it, and you are the only one who is fortunate enough to know how, which makes our lives a degree easier. My door is already open, you simply must unlock yours."**

"Why can't you do it for me?" She inquired, somewhat awed by his use of advanced vernacular. She would have felt spiteful, and accused him of being unnecessarily pompous if not for his disarming smile and the way he explained humbly, with an air of genuine kindness as opposed to arrogance. It felt to her that this was simply his way, and that he had always spoken so, and always would.

"**My lady, it is a subject most recondite in nature, most difficult to comprehend and only more so to attempt an explanation. Quite simply it is on your wish that the lock will open and we can talk more freely." **The Imp seemed to know exactly what was needed to be said in order to woo her affection. He had known that he would have to change his appearance and attire most radically and had done so to great extent.

One would be inclined to agree with Maka, that this most foul cretin appeared most princely indeed and that his charms were affecting her in quite the desired fashion.

Maka walked up to the lock, which morphed into further complexities – wanting to scare her from attempting to break it. Regardless, she placed her hand against the warm metal and sighed, wishing it would open.

The sounds of a hundred cogs began to whir and spin for minutes but to no avail as they came to a juddering stop.

Maka look quizzically at the man on the other side. **"You have to want it to open; you have to be willing to reveal yourself without doubt." **He emphatically spoke, his eyes widened slightly with enthusiasm. **"Commence recourse once more, and once more unto the opening" **Maka's eyebrows raised up as he said this _This guy speaks so oddly_ She laughed shortly to herself before attempting again to open the way, filling her heart and mind with solely the feeling of wanting it open, imagining the lock falling apart and the chains scattering like leaves in the wind.

And it did.

The heavy golden chains that once smiled as the link held hands across the gateway began to snarl dark brown sneers. Rust burst up from under their skin and brushed off into the air in a fine powder. The lock tore itself to pieces, drifting away slowly like pieces of cloth on a river. All around her the soft winds she hadn't noticed before became still. The links separated from each other, against their will they broke their grasps to one another, broke the bonds that had kept her soul safe all these years and joined the floating petals around her. They spun and danced a forlorn dance, a heart-wrenching dance of betrayal and mistrust. Each broken link accusingly whispered _Why didn't you trust us? Why didn't you believe in us? Why did you break us? _

Each painful whisper sowed a new seed of doubt and watered the previous ones until she looked again at the charming man in front of her who wore a slim smile, as though trying to suppress greater happiness and delight. She burned that forest down and stepped through the door as the Imp held out a soft hand, helping her through.

"**Welcome to my world."**

Stein sits hunched at fading desk. Its wide body wraps around him stiffly fighting between hugging him and hugging the wall. Its grey surface would reflect the light softly had it the chance, yet the windows in the rust beaten room hadn't been opened for years.

The walls were rusted like bolts rust when only partially exposed to salt and air, there were lines in some places, patches in others like blotchy skin on a teenagers. Elsewhere in the room, generally far from the windows and pipes, the wallpaper still managed to cling to the cold support behind it.

The papers held simple, repeating designs of embossed flowers that were out dated by decades and beneath the dry patches were the shadows of once bright furniture. Stein was facing a shuttered window directly opposite the door, to the right lights whispered through the cracks in the metal sheeted windows and glanced about the room before being absorbed in the faded couches and armchairs. The left was much the same, but where there would be furniture there were filing cabinets.

They filled the wall standing like soldiers pressed into a bus, their glum faces only broken by their shining lips which denoted their usage. Some were so rusted from constant use that they'd been repaired with bits of roped pushed through the rotted holes whereas others were still shining like the day they were bought.

Stein's desk was strewn with and hidden by papers, several of the filing cabinets hung open and the empty folders were clearly missing from them, instead lying unfamiliarly in front of Stein who was chewing roughly on the back of his pen.

"Where is it?!" Stein exasperates, he rifles through them again and again before being interrupted by Marie.

"Don't worry, you'll find it." She places a consoling cup of coffee next to him, its familiar smell comforting him. He leans back as he sips it "Thank you, my darling."

She quietly leaves with a contented smile.

Stein had selected the patient folders that all had one unique common trait. The blood was all affected by the same mutation. Some patients were completely overtaken by it and the blood seemed to have a life of its own, manifesting itself uncontrollably. Others were at various stages, but each time the electricity had always brought its effects out. He smiled remembering the first one who suggested using the current. "Oh Spirit, It's almost ironic that it was you who showed it to me, and then underwent its tests" Shaking the fond memory from his mind he returned to his papers. The feeble light of dusk had changed tone and a bright moon was now attempting to fight its way into the dimly lit room. The time had gone by unnoticed for Stein, and it was only Marie's constant appearances that he had been counting.

Reading a particularly tarnished paper, Stein leant back exhaling. It wasn't a specific patient that he'd found, but rather a research paper that he'd enclosed with it - one detailing rare but possible effects and circumstances that made it more likely. A number of passages are either missing or blacked out however Stein had circled in red:

The effects of 'black blood' – This investigation aims to explore and discover the reaction of 'black blood' to unusual circumstance, and to reveal possible symptoms heretofore unknown.

Patient found typical. Blood infection 58% reacts unwillingly to electrical stimulus.

Patient found atypical: Blood reacts to electrical stimulus normally, blood infection 63%.

Patient unable to be induced into full transformation however assistant found cellmate to be beaten to near death. Patient swears innocence, truth found under polygraph. Cellmate notes black smoke in mouth and "eyes as dark as pitch" perhaps hyperdilation of pupils?  
Test indicative of a degree of schizophrenia. Psychiatric analysis reports of internal conflict, says patient appears to converse with himself prior to answering, patient is withdrawn at times and says admits attempted killing of cellmate for power. When questioned further Patient says he was not in control, says 'the hound said it would make us stronger, freer". Admitted for interrogation but breaks free killing all those near before running. Recaptured successfully, I am witness to the transformation. No known human explanation viable, transferred to Special Interrogation and Containment Unit under orders of Lord Shinigami. Further inquiry as to patient is stonewalled. Lead researcher Dr Pinot Rickner discovers recombinant DNA specific to test subject, differing slightly from other recombinant DNA found in typical patients. Designs serum that is target specific, found 74% success rate.

_Records ordered seized by Lord Shinigami, I have hidden this in hopes another researcher may find this of use._

Stein's excitement spills into his voice "This description matches the pretty boy downstairs… Perhaps there is another way to break him. Ohhh So Much Fun To Come! Ahahaha!"


	21. Chapter 21: A regal disguise

**A/N:** Hey should I start naming these chapters, or putting a title just stating the chapter (I'll do it for this one, and in future if you say yes)? Or are you guys not bothered by the curt starts? Drop me a line, let me know. I couldn't resist posting this now, it was so enjoyable to write!

* * *

_-Chapter 21-_

A regal disguise.

* * *

"**Welcome to my world."**

The Prince walked away from her, his decorative suit softly jingling. The gentle breezes gliding around her short frilled dress and the smells of purity were all around her. The pale yellow material polka-dotted with light pink discs of strawberry milk that led up to the thin straps that hung from her shoulders, revealing her smooth collarbones and blanche neck that were delicately covered by her dark blonde hair, that glittered with natural highlights like sun that shone through the clouds.

"**This way, my lady"** He was turned away from her and farther ahead, easily hiding the evil sneer that lunched upon the façade of grace.

Her soft shoes let her feel the welcoming earth beneath, the crunching of grass stalks as her fingertips stroked their seed-laden heads. The country side rolled out into looping hills and meandering rivulets, occasional baas carried by the wind entered her ears and drew her eyes to a far off field that lay splattered with white moving spots. The hints of a wood fire breezed through carrying with it the sounds of a small village. The prince continued towards it.

Maka caught up to his shining black boots that left no trace of themselves in the field like she did. He seemed to be unable to affect anything, perhaps out of choice but curious nonetheless.

The gentleman stopped suddenly, like he had come against an immovable wall that had pushed him back. He didn't falter, he pivoted and simply walked towards her, once again wearing nonchalant grin and offering his arm.

She smiled unwittingly, linking her arm around his and resting her hand on top of the back of his.

"**Skip with me, won't you?" **He laughed joyfully she thought, his happiness infectious, his grin contagious.

"Skip? Okay!" She said imbued with his confidence. They skipped through scenes quickly like flicking pages in a sketch book, day flashed to night before flashing back to bright. They never tired though, and the gentleman always wore that grin, the mask that was intricately perfect and appeared indistinguishably genuine.

They laughed together, unable to stop for some time and Maka couldn't recall a time when she had felt so happy.

The gentleman sighed with pleasure, bringing them to a gentle stop. They were at a scene just like the one they had left, except there only stood a wooden table. It was empty and the warm sun brought the smell of toasted wood to their noses.

Maka lay back in the grass, which was cut short but still tickled her cheeks. The gentleman lay next to her, his dark attire rippling around him as he bent down to clash with the lighter tones of the grass.

"**Are you having a good time? Perhaps you feel better now?" **He spoke to the sun.

"Yes, I feel so much better. I haven't felt this happy in such a long time… Thank you"

"**It's quite alright my dear, it's so lonely here… especially when it rains."**

They relaxed in mutual comfort until Maka opened her mouth once more.

"Can I talk to you?"

"**Of course, something is troubling you I sense?" **He still didn't face her, staring into the sun instead.

"It's just… I don't know how to say it…"

"**Then don't speak, remember. Let us skip through your chapters, show me what troubles you."**

Maka rolled onto her side to face him, the grass flattened where she had been. Small songbirds trilled in the nearby woods and a lone robin sat on the dark picnic bench.

She looked at him, wondering who this magical person was, how fantastic he made her feel.

"How?" She propped her head up on her elbow, her face slightly distorted form the action.

The man still didn't look at her directly, instead pulling himself back up he offered her his arm once more.

"**Let's dance, and as we dance recall the memories, show us your torments." **He comforted. **"I'll be by your side always. I will be your bright guardian."**

And so once more she linked her arm with his, and rested her palm atop the back of his hand. And they danced, slowly swaying and twisting as he hummed a melody and she sang with him, somehow knowing the notes that were coming, and able to follow him perfectly. ( /watch?v=lE0SPtpzuWU )

He smiled gently facing away from her, she saw his lips pull up and his cheeks tense with the action, somehow making her mimic his enjoyment.

"**Focus milady. Apologies for the distraction." **

Darkness begins to drop around them, the starless night sky up above. A dark forest blurs by them, heavy trunks sneering and frowning, black leaves sheltering them. The man beside her held his composure, the same soft smile playing on his lips as the scene begins to focus.

Maka wraps her fingers around the man's palm; its cool temperature relaxing her. Ahead the street runs slick and oily. Foul smells wrench themselves in their noses and stick in their throats. Maka moves closer to him, watching the memory unfold in front of her.

It was the fight her mum had told her about, she was still young and didn't even know she could remember this…

The man's eyes lit up in success as darkness blurred the scene in front before disappearing like a cloud beneath a sun's glare. All they saw was the outside of the building, the block of tall flats, grey and miserable in the lurid night, the lone light drawing their attention as shadows moved in front of it.

Maka began to tremble as she heard the shouts begin to echo around her…

"_How could you Spirit!" Sobs cloyed the words as they rattled through the scene._

"_What? I didn't do nothing!" A man's voice slurs back, the unheard sloshing of a drink in his hand._

"_I SAW you, I thought we were happy, I thought you loved me…"Tears fell from the lady's gentle eyes as she whispered "I thought you loved us."_

"_I do love you Kami. I do. I was drunk I'm sorry." The man attempts an apology._

"_You're still drunk! And Maka is in the room next door. How could you do this to us?! We can barely pay for food but you spend what little we have on whiskey and whores!" Kami's voice broke as she screamed with hurt. "You spent MY money on other women!" Kami broke down. _

The heart-wrenching sobs forced their way and echoed in Maka's ears. She couldn't stop herself, tears pushing themselves out, her face contorting in anguish as she whispered "Mama".

"**Don't worry; I'm by your side. Focus again."**

Maka lifted her face once more.

"_Kami, I promise it won't happen again, please forgive me, I don't want to miss my little girl growing up." Spirit pleaded, the fight sobering him up somewhat._

"_Just go Spirit. Go away." Kami pushes feebly against his chest. She couldn't physically force him out, but Spirit knows that he couldn't stay. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, to make her feel safe again, to apologise. But he can't. Her actions speak loudly enough for him. "Just go before Maka sees you like this, and don't come back!"_

_Spirit's face is crestfallen, a tempest of hurt, distress and grief. "Please Kami, I'm sorry." He pleads again._

"_That's what you said last time you bastard!" Kami's uncontrollable cries flaw her words but he understands._

"_If I go I don't know what'll happen… think about Maka, she needs a father." _

"_You're right, she does, and it won't be you." She spits._

_That cut Spirit to the core. It broke his heart to hear her say that to him, but he knew he deserved it._

"_Fine. I'll leave you alone." Spirit's hunched body slowly strays out the door. His shoulders look like they bear a weight too much for him to bear. He walks into a liquor store and comes out with a large square bottle. The cheap label says 'Tsin Tsao Whiskey' and it swings with his arm as he walks to the train station. The scene shifts around them following spirit up to when he buys a one way ticket "To far far away" _

"_**Maka?"**_The man tenderly asks, **"Are you okay?"**

Upon asking this question Maka turns to him, her eyes are filled with tears and she collapses into his chest, shaking.

"**It's okay. Shh. Shh." **The Imp begins to sing again, the bassy vibrations soothing her (watch?v=o0MIFHLIzZY)this time she can't follow him, the warm dark tones soothing her. Gentle chains shake around them as her eyes stay clenched against his chilled body, his arms holding her gently.

"**Let's continue, you need not watch once you give me permission" **

Maka nods into him and doesn't see the snarling sneer that creeps over his face.

"**Stay close, Maka, and I won't drop you."**

The floor falls away from her as they weightlessly float there. The scene peels away, like old paint on a rotting door, chunks and strips flake off before rebuilding and moulding a new scene.

_A foggy black path wanders through a heavy forest. An older girl walks it nervously, her cape not holding back the chill of fear that comes from within. She thinks she imagines glinting eyes that disappear into the forest every now and again. "It's just insects, nothing to fear" She repeats the mantra as though it might come true._

_The damp wintry rigor biting about her, she shivers. The lifeless gravel beneath is patched with moss and soil creating unequal and irregular crunches._

_Maka hugs herself tightly, the cloak pinning itself to her body._

_Her breath frosts in front of her, billowing out like smoke from a doused fire. She watches it and begins to play with it to take her mind of the frightening atmosphere. Sharp smells of the forest prick her nose and every now and again she could swear she hears a footfall. _

_She looks up to see a light slowly approach her. It's a man, he wears a pale overcoat with a number of pockets and simple grey trouser. "It's dangerous for a young miss to be out alone on a night like this."_

"_I know, I think I got lost, I was looking for a place to stay"_

"_Well look no further. My name is Stein, Dr Stein. Pleased to meet you." The warmth from the burning torch attracts Maka like a moth to a flame, the hope of a warm place to stay just as tantalising. _

"_I'm Maka"_

"_Maka? Maka Albarn?" Stein's eyes widen._

"_How do you know?"_

"_I'm a friend of your father, you must stay the night now, I insist." Steins eye's glinted behind his glasses._

_Reassured by the revelation, Maka quickly trusts Stein, following him unquestioningly._

_They arrive at a conservative structure, all Maka can make out against the darkness is a roughly square shape with a tower, but no further detail._

"_Marie! Marie! We have a guest!" Stein calls out as they approach the door. _

_Maka watches the various lights flick on as someone arrives to let them in. She's an attractive woman with an hourglass figure and bouncing curls that reach just beyond her shoulders. "Who is it?"_

"_She's called Maka… Maka Albarn" Stein reports breathlessly._

_Maka could swear she saw a look of pity fly across Marie's face before being replaced with a warm smile.  
"Maka, my dear child, do come in. Both of you before you die from cold. The kettle's on so do have a hot drink, there's also milk on the stove."_

_They duck through the doorway and quickly reach the kitchen. _

"_here, sit, let me get you some hot milk" Stein places her in a chair and walks to the stove. She doesn't see him pour a number of drops of a dark, sweet-smelling liquid into the drink and stir._

"_Drink it up and have another cup, you must be frozen through."_

_Maka encases the hot cup in her bloodless hands, feeling the heat soothe through and bring function back again. She drinks the milk too quickly, burning her tongue but not caring, it feels too good and tastes beautiful. _

_The memory begins to fuzz and blur before re-establishing itself in the cell. The darkness surrounds them and the smell of rot and slime stab the senses._

"**Maka. Maka it's alright, I've seen enough. I think it's time for us to take another journey, together. To see someone familiar."**

He gently shook her, and as she looked up to him and for the first time their eyes met...

* * *

**A/N: **I fricking loved writing this chapter. Phwoar we went from elation to depression all in one chapter. I hope I managed to create the scenes on paper to match how I imagined them because imma cry if I didn't.


	22. Chapter 22: Windows to the Soul

_**A/N: Jeez! Why do you guys review as guest?! How can I thank you if you don't have a name? I'll have to lump you all together as "Guests" - I LAV U GUISE.(But seriously, get off guest :P)  
And Talor asked to bring these back sooo:**_

_**Sebastian's Kat: Hmm So do I ^^ I think you'll start getting a hint in this chapter.  
TalorForever: You got an extended PM sesh, I don't think you need one of these too :P  
Wildface: Your creation of new words enthralls me xD And thank-you so much for your reviews, I love their detail! And actually I can imagine Maka beating on the Imp haha like it would have an effect but it would be funny to watch lmao.  
Guest (from chapter 20): Technically there is more SoMa if you count the Imp as being part of Soul o.O**_

* * *

_-Chapter 22-_

Windows to the Soul

* * *

Her own eyes blinked back at her; reflected in the burning white of the Imp's mask she could see her own tears beginning to form for no reason. His eyes were quiet and comforting; the irises chilled like mountain snow, only a few shades greyer than the ghostly whites of his eyes but still with aweing beauty.

Those eyes should have scared her; they didn't - instead as she gazed moment after moment, they soothed her; quieted feverish emotions in her that she didn't know were there. A calm peace fell over her as she continued to gaze into him and the tears no longer prickled so strongly.

His hand gently reached up to cup her soft cheek, the rose colouring warm beneath his touch. His thumb softly wiped away a lone tear that had begun to fall down her face.

"**Maka, it's alright. We're safe together." **The Imp's hand rose and his pale fingers snaked through her flowing hair, pushing bright rebellious strands away from her face with a sweet partial smile; as if he enjoyed the intimacy. His other hand was scooped around her lower back – gently holding her close to him.

His actions calmed her, she felt so secure with him, so satisfied like she would never want for anything again. She hadn't felt this way for so long and hoped it would never end. His hand continued to run itself over her head, seemingly alleviating with its movements every exacerbation, antagonism and regretful feeling she had ever experienced.

With him she felt like Stein was just a faded, distant memory and her father was coming home any day with a bundle of flowers and asking for forgiveness.

His fingers slid under the base of her head, supporting her as his face moved closer to hers and he said under his breath **"My fascinating, sublime young lady. You're amazing."**

Maka felt sincerity fill each word, matching like a jigsaw piece the same longing that was in her heart, and as their soft lips met Maka curled her fingers into his shirt, holding into him as if scared to let go. He broke the kiss just to look to her again **"You have such gorgeous eyes." **He said with a gravelly voice full of fake emotion **"Oh how it pains me to look away"**.

Maka pulled her light body up to him, reaching up on her tiptoes, catching him just as he finished his sentence. She teased at his lips, her tongue flicking in and out as though unsure whether she was permitted. His response was all the encouragement she needed as he passionately returned her affections.

As they broke it off he closed the remaining few inches between them in a desirous hug. They let their actions speak the words they couldn't find.

Her hands glided down the white ruffled shirt that hugged his chest with a gentle hiss as her hot short breaths panted against him. They interlinked their fingers tightly as threads do with each other – wanting to become one but unable to.

The Imp's eyes glinted mischievously, alighting in the success of his intrusion. _**This is going to be one 'hell' of a ride.**_

"**I can keep you safe Maka, I can protect you and help you become as strong as you like." **Her head was hooked beneath his chin and his words wrapped around her like shining armour, locking into place. **"Together we can do anything." **He sighed and wrapped his arms around her more securely, as if afraid she would leave him, doing just as he knew he must if she was to be fully persuaded.

Those words lit in her a blue fire she hadn't felt before, a feeling she wanted to feed. But he didn't explain that the fire would burn a hole in her heart. He didn't say that she would have to fight the hunger constantly and that the more she fed it the more ravenous and insatiable it would become.

"I'm cold…" Maka spoke quietly up to him.

"**Here, take my jacket." **He shrugged out of it; the small decorative gold chains that hung over his breast pocket jingling like small chimes in a gusty breeze. She wore it like a cape, the dark heavy cloth designed to withstand the elements but still look regally dignified. Its high collar reached up comically around her as the base of the clothing flared outward.

They linked arms again and the Imp grinned, bearing his shining bleached teeth. "What? What's so funny?" Her insecurities still playing up as she suspected he was laughing at her.

"**Nothing, nothing at all - I'm just… happy." **What he said was true to an extent, he would let her hear what she wanted in that; there wasn't reason as yet to reveal the true explanation.

Besides, he wanted to see Soul's face as they walked through that door close together as any young couple might. He practically salivated at the wicked thought.

The dark night shifted unnaturally into early morning and they walked down a dust-ridden, dry forest path. There were the remains of an old wood post fence to their left, supposed to prevent people from tumbling down the precipitous edge, but now rotted through. Most knew well enough to stay away.

Gentle hoof trots caught up to them; the quiet and deep percussions travelling through their bodies as they watched a hunched and hooded rider pass on a large but emaciated black horse that chewed the pattern of horseshoes into the earth beneath followed a short time later by a young lady wearing a large black coat and shoes plastered in mud.

The Imp knew exactly where they were, but Maka of course was clueless, still believing the reality of the unreal just as any would do in a dream.

He was going to have to decide whether or not to let Maka watch Soul attempt a murder, or to interrupt the pre-occupation of the memory with their entrance.

He gave into his own temptations, unable to resist seeing and feeling the effect of their entrance on Soul.

_**Oh this is going to be good.**_

They strolled arm in arm to the door, which he opens with ease. He couldn't be bothered to wait for a large beer-bellied man to open it for him.

Soul's clear red eyes flickered up to look at them before dropping down to the table and jumping up again to actually_ see _the pair that had entered.

"Maka" Soul whispered inaudibly.

The Imp grinned unnaturally wide, like it did in its actual form. Maka didn't notice the smile but did notice the spiked albino that sat alone at his table with a slightly despairing look on his face.

Coincidentally, persons unknown had appeared in every other available seat, allowing the courteous gentleman to suggest that they politely ask to join the lone wolf as his table held the only vacant seats.

Maka nodded shortly before nervously looking up to the now gentle and reassuring face.

They leisurely walked to the table, and Soul noticed the coat that Maka wore; a small pang of familiarity and worry entered his heart before he could shield it as he wondered what it was doing around her shoulders.

"**Nice to meet you, this is Maka." **The Imp pretended not to know Soul, gesturing to the girl beside him with the introduction.

Soul looked at the person sitting opposite him and felt the familiar pangs of recognition. _How often had he used that same mask for his own gain?_

"I know who she is. But does she know who you are?" Soul retorted quietly, knowing full well what the Imp was trying to do. He wouldn't let it work; the Imp was strong enough as it is.

He stared at the Imp; his brain knowing what was beneath the mask and now trying to decide which person to see, whether it was the façade or the creature. The images flickered and merged with each other, shifting like clouds of black and white dust that only defocussed the image further. It was painful to watch but he wouldn't let it show.

_How can she not see his eyes? _Soul wondered, aghast, for the one part of the man that was un-shifting in front of him were those black, soulless eyes; the black that whispered outside their sockets and smoked down into his nose.

"**Of course she does, she knows me very well." **He grinned back, the words weaving their way through his teeth as he leans down to her ear **"Don't you, my love?" **

Soul quenched the fountain of emotions that the Imp was able to command within him. He had to get a handle on himself otherwise he would play right into the Imps clutches.

Maka blushed and dipped her face, hiding herself shyly as embarrassment burned over her.

Aelia entered the building, the buckles on her boots softly chiming as she walked over to them.

Soul cleared his throat and looked to Aelia, who met his gaze. She froze in her tracks like a deer in headlights, unable to break his stare.

His eyes were burning brightly, but his face still held its stoic composure as carefully rehearsed expressions began to perform on his face.

"Hey!" He called out cheerfully "Why don't you join me, since there's no place left to sit?"

Aelia smiled with pleasure before quickly walking towards him, and, as she reached the table, Soul's arms wrapped itself around her waist, pulling her down to him and locking her into a tongue-tying kiss who's unexpectedness revealed itself first in a look of shock on Aelia's face which then merged into one of pleasure.

She slid in beside him, moving to be as close as she could to him as he left his arm resting around her waist possessively.

He was intending for the action to deny the Imp the pleasure he knew it was getting from bringing in Maka like that, but the his actions had had consequences he didn't know.

Maka saw how he toyed with that girl, a stranger who she doubted he even knew her name. The new fire in her chest burned a bit brighter as she started to experience jealousy and anger before she remembered who she was with, this charming man.

The man who had saved her from that empty darkness in her mind and ran with her through beautiful orchards. She was lucky to be with him. Soul was just a passing temptation.

She didn't know his story but it didn't matter, he had feelings for her and she liked him just as much back. She wasn't even worth his attention yet her he was giving it to her.

"**Well, I wasn't expecting that…" The Imp laughter hissed out as he had beaten Soul. It was incredibly entertaining for the Imp who had everything just as he liked.**

The ambiance of pub chatter swelled, billowing upwards. It seemed as if every other drunken creation in there had been watching from afar as they too began to bellow mirthful joy that echoed painfully in Soul's ears.

_**Guess what ex-General Evans… My advantage.**_

The Imp revealed Maka's thoughts and feelings to Soul, who could see how he had only driven her closer to the monster across from him, the one that sat in one of _his_ old uniforms.

Soul's eyes set themselves ablaze as a chilling smile crept into Soul's expression.

"Maka?" Soul asked for her attention. "About your _close_ friend there…" The stillness and calm he contained in his voice was difficult for him to manage as he elated in his counter.

"Hm?" She quietly responded, wondering what he was going to ask.

"What's his name?"

**A/N: Sorry for perhaps the quality being slightly lowered, but I had to spend less time on this than I usually would as I had an Extended Essay I needed to be finishing last night/morning… And also 'pologies for the lateness but I needed help writing this and reasons.**

**Also, I seriously implore you to read "Of The Angel's Brigade" by TheColorGray **

**It's a beautiful piece of work.**

**Fun fact – as soon as the bottom edge of the sun touches the horizon as it sets, it has technically already disappeared and what you are seeing (i.e. the rest of the sun) is an illusion made by the bending of light through the atmosphere much like a straw does in a glass of water. If you don't believe me look it up (but I think you should just trust me, my source is QI and they're pretty infallible**


	23. Chapter 23: When I break your heart

FYI: Only continue reading after '_"Little boy? Little boy, why do you cry?"'_ if you are okay with disturbing imagery.

* * *

_-Chapter 23-_

When I break your little heart.

* * *

"What's his name?" Soul demanded again, his voice quietly rejoicing in the position he had now put Maka in, and by extension the Imp. Her faced blossomed with hot embarrassment as she failed to recall the name she had never been given, staring down into her lap where her fingers played with each other as if the activity would aid her.

The Imp let Maka wallow in her plight as a slow grin stretched once more across his face. It stared at Soul, the shining teeth bearing through retracted lips that curled back. He didn't have an answer for that question but he did have another trick up his sleeve.

Everyone in the Inn stopped what they were doing, and Soul felt the empty eyes of the creations staring at them, the weight of the oppressive silence holding down all the sounds that might be heard, such as the beat of the hearts at the table or the cogs of their minds. The silence that blanketed them with ear-splitting fanfare felt like it was announcing the coming of a storm as short bursts of electricity tingled in the air, the bolts raising the hairs on their arms and legs.

The Imp's head tilted slightly, off-setting it from the rest of his body.

"**I think it time we conclude." **

White petals appeared from the ceiling, gently falling like pale snowflakes that left empty trails behind them. The falling blades of silken flowers slowly annihilated the scene around them as they sliced through the air in deathly silence.

They fell in an accumulating number; more and more and more until it was like a marriage celebration where the sky was blotted out with the frail, pretty little bodies, as though the clouds had fallen about them and clotted their vision with this slowly intensifying brightness that threatened to blind them, pinning their eyes closed as air began to rush upwards, only throwing the already landed petals back into their faces.

Maka and Soul both felt a similar sensation. Their stomachs raced upwards and fought to get out their mouths whilst their guts wished to follow; their hearts beat harder and with more fire, threatening to burst from their bony captivities as their mouths willed themselves open to make a scream but failing to.

They each awoke in similar fashion, also. Each with arms splayed as they slammed down against the hard, unforgiving floor that seemed to repay their kindness by throwing them from itself as they bounced slightly upwards. Maka instantly retracted her frail arms, clutching them to her chest as the pain burst like fireworks along her nerves and stung beneath her skin. She coughed trying to get a hold on the wild beast that was tearing up her arms and yanking at the chains on her mind.

Soul's arms too struck the floor with a substantiated smacking, but his pain was to be far greater, a different tier entirely to the simply bruised Maka's. The swollen and tight skin had burst in a number of places, mainly the purple and already fully stretched burn marks.

Blood oozed and dribbled out like sludge from a sewer as Soul attempted to bite through his own teeth, his jaw muscles working furiously beneath his skin, pumping like small generators that rippled and pulsed. His pupils dilated with the massive influx of pain-signals as various chemicals flooded his brain as natural defence mechanisms kicked in.

His arms, his back, everywhere that had landed back on the floor felt like someone had drawn a number of knives over his skin, pushing only lightly to open the skin and freshly healed wounds before returning to twist and jab their serrated way into the bleeding wounds. The bleeding wounds that revealed the fibrous flesh beneath that was webbed and lined in white ligaments and muscle.

Soul's eye's distanced themselves from the world, closed themselves to the sights he would have seen, blinded him to Marie's entrance and the soft bobbing of her curled hair as she approached a sobbing and wretched Maka.

His eyes were not all that had introverted under the barrage of pain Soul was experiencing, his consciousness had turned inwards as well, running from the monstrosities that chased him from his body because as long as he ran, as long as he kept the monsters behind him he would never feel what he had to.

*Soul's mind*

The air tasted icy and dry in the darkness as he sucked in breath after breath, panting heavily as he continued to run faster than he could. White hairs plastered themselves to his forehead with sweat and stuck to the sides of his head. He gasped and coughed as his throat closed, the lack of moisture making him gag and retch, but he kept running, knowing the torment would be much worse were the monsters to catch him.

_**"Soul, Soul, Soul. Why must it always come to this? Always running... This is just how I found you, just how I rescued you..." **_The Imp's disembodied voice played its soothing melody softly above the howling roars of the beasts behind him, the multi-limbed creatures salivating at the chase as drool shook through the sharp daggers that filled their mouths, glinting with malice.

_**"Remember?"**_ The Imp clapped his clubbed hands and the monsters dropped away and Soul ran straight into another memory. Familiar scenery greeted him; unwillingly he had stepped back to his first years in the army.

_"No, please no not this. Give me to the monsters just not... I can't, not again."_ Soul's pitiful internal begging would have succeeded against anyone else, but the pleading only seemed to light the Imp's eyes with cruel pleasure.

_**"Why don't I do this more often?"**_The imp rhetorically wondered aloud to itself.

_**"Oh, how I do enjoy this world."**_ The control it had over what transpired evidently was its main inspiration for the comment. Regardless of Soul's otherwise heart-breaking sentiment, the Imp hadn't enjoyed this memory for quite some time; this was the memory of how they had met in the darkest, lowest point of Soul's life.

This was before the Imp had helped him;

made him strong;

made him invincible;

made him inhuman.

A thick fog chills the air, its heavy presence foreboding and fear-inducing. Soul's petty child's steps dully spoke back off of the brick and plaster buildings that stood like ghostly presences to either side, reaching up into grey darkness. He was lost, how lost he did not know, but he kept stopping to read each sign, looking – hoping for his familiar barracks.

He had arrived, as his adopted father had asked, during a time of peace. Johnston 'Silvermoon' Patraus and his son both were in the stealth squad but Soul was just a grunt, unproven and only accepted because of his esteemed guardian.

The other soldiers resented him for it, seeing him as being above them and that he spent almost every moment he could under the protective watch of his superiors only fuelled their hatred further.

Soul knew they disliked him, and knew they would happily hurt him. It only increased his desire for authoritative protection, yet he did not know the extent of their derision for him; the irrational fire that hard men hold in the hearts ready to use for killing without conscience; the fire that Soul had never experienced.

Soul's was humble work that ended late and oft' in the officers' private quarters as he served steaming tea and shined their boots and buckles 'till he saw himself in their gleaming bright faces.

The weather had been looking bad for the past few nights and Soul had had an idea that this was going to be coming, having experienced something similar whilst he was young.

It was interesting that he thought of himself as being old now, for he was just 13 – the minimum entry age and rare for a recruit's age. His peculiar, blood-red eyes also seemed to have done their best to alienate him from the others, even those his own age wouldn't dare come near him as rumours of his being a product of _Medusa_ were rife.

The fog crept its long cold fingers along the edge of his skin, tickling the hairs and massaging shivers into his spine as its body twirls and shifts around him. The simple blue uniform does little to keep out the weather.

It is a felt coat, the soft material navy and pierced with bright yellow stitching arcing down the lapels which held themselves together with dark brass buttons holding the regiment's insignia of a wolf-cub. Similar trousers hung over his legs, the ironed creases pulling it ahead and off his skin, allowing air to chill his shins. Black polished boots guard his feet as their laces travel up past his ankles, offering support to his legs as he marches. He pulls his soft cap down, the colour once again matching the outfit blandly, bar the shining hard lip of the cap's black waterproofed leather.

He held on to it as he leant down to look closely at the brass embossed plaque, the letters difficult to under the weak lamps and in the dense fog.

_Barrack 59-3A : Engineer units 7 to 9._

A wave of misery passed over him as he realised he had no hope, even if he knew where he was going, of getting back to his barracks and still getting a half-decent amount of sleep, mind you he wouldn't be surprised if they had locked up already, they'd locked him out before in worse conditions.

Fortunately an officer had seen him shivering under the wooden stairs that led up to each housing unit and had bollocked the men inside so thoroughly that they hadn't dared to do anything to him for months, but that, like all things, passed with time, and he was back to suffering regular and public abuse.

He straightened his back out again and with a determination only someone who has stopped caring could have, he continued on – unable to think of what else he could do.

He had given up on finding his barracks and tears began to well themselves up behind his eyes, waiting for their chance as little Soul fought his shoulder shaking sobs back. He looked up and around, a pitiful frown pulled his delicate red lips down, anchors of helplessness pulling forcefully on the corners of his mouth. His flawless, milky skin was made only more entrancing and beautiful by the dark moon's gentle and quiet light.

He couldn't help it anymore, sitting on the corner of a crossroads he saw the same buildings everywhere, he cursed the military uniform that had expanded to cover buildings, each identical but for an identifying plaque.

A whimper was the first sound to escape his grasp, and that was all it took to break down the fragile dam holding back all the rest of him. He began to weep, weep not just for being lost but for being alone, so terrifyingly alone. Alone since Spirit was nowhere to be found, and alone since his uncle was coldly courteous. He still had some hope, perhaps Blackstar might become closer yet he felt that was unlikely, felt that if it was going to happen it would have already.

"Little boy? Little boy, why do you cry?" A man's deep voice gruffed out towards him, the body not yet visible through the blinding haze.

A twinge of familiarity jumped at the back of his mind as a second voice accompanied the first. "Yes, little boy, are you lost?" another man, just as closely familiar as the first. He knew those voices but could not yet place them.

Their large shadows materialised in the still smoke, silhouettes that moved towards him.

"He looks so…ravishing" The first man spoke again, speaking the last word like a dog that wolfs down its food, drooling at the mouth.

"What a lucky find, and no one to hear – the entire engineering cohort is off on drills and duties in the north." The second joined.

"Are you thinking what I am?"

"Definitely." They had continued the frightening conversation as they walked towards him. Soul knew who they were now, they were the two worst soldiers in the platoon, being alone with them was not good.

Alas, it was too late, for as that thought crossed his mind, the two men rushed Soul, each pinioning his small arms in their large calloused hands.

Soul was utterly petrified, his body stiller than stone as he had yet to process what was happening.

Grunts of pleasure came from the men as they began to strip Soul down, ripping his perfectly pressed jacket and popping the buttons off that dinged innocently in the street, the sound quickly swallowed by the white surroundings.

He felt another hand reach to remove his cap only to be told to "Stop, it looks too cute." Followed by a repulsive and loathsome laugh.

Soul was still dazed. fear had replaced his blood and frozen his muscles.

_This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This isn't happening. It's all a bad dream. Please let it be a bad dream. Please let me wake up from this._

But it wasn't, and as the air began to nip and pinch at his now exposed and unscathed alabaster chest the realisation hit into him with the force of a tsunami whose waves were pulling him down into the depths, drowning and choking him beneath its massive body.

Tears struck his eyes and flowed unhindered from them, racing down his cheeks to join each other at the base of his small, smooth chin.

The calloused hands continued their morbid work, tugging at the belt that held up his flawless trousers before giving up and sawing through with a rough knife. The jerking actions jolted Soul back and forth with a healthy measure of violence. His body moving like a ragdoll's as he heard his neck crack.

"I can't wait 'till I break your little heart in two, but I think we'll be breaking, or perhaps tearing something else first**" **Soul could no longer distinguish between the two monsters whose putrid words wormed their way into him as he numbly felt the cold now touch his bare and completely revealed body.

"See I told you he'd be cute, and the best part? No matter what he says we did to him, no one will care."

* * *

**A/R: **

**Talor – '**_**Took you a while to update**_**' Am I detecting an attitude? Hmm? I should warn you, I know people… Hahaha And Aelia's only here because she's in the memory, and I doubt she'll be back soon – unless the story needs her back for some reason, but as far as I can predict she ain't. I'm in college atm, Uni's next year O.O scary shiz my friend. **

**That person – Yea sorry about the move, but I re-read the guidelines for where shit should go and turns out this makes the M rating, not like I could really announce but y'know you wouldn't have this problem if you just followed the story ^^ (hint hint :P) I do intend on putting *at least* all the main characters that we know and love, mention some OC's for background and because I have no intention of ending this story any time soon, perhaps I might manage to write in all the sub-characters as well :D**


	24. Chapter 24: Cold and broken

_-Chapter 24-_

Cold and Broken

* * *

Soul lay silently in the gutter boardering the new road, still tough and resilient and full of flattened textures. Next to him the pavement - the hard grey stones, the slabs smoothed from thousands of feet daily marching upon its back. The small pieces of grit washed to the side push their bony ridges into Soul's numbed skin. He doesn't feel them so much, but still they will leave their trademark red and white indentions.

Muffled claps of flying footfalls patter through the still scene. A boy, roughly the same age as Soul, jumped aerobically from rooftop to rooftop, the lack of thrill and danger bored him as the buildings are close enough to step over; the large military complex was either doing its best to conserve space or was infuriatingly efficient.

Green and black patchwork irises orbit wide pupils as his eyes narrowly peek through the slit in his face covering. The boy is wrapped in the colours of an empty night sky; skin reveals itself at the most flexed points: knees, elbows, wrists (hands hidden by matt black gloves), shoulders (capped with deep navy leather). Every place where his body shrugged, slipped and rolled under the material had moved the outfit apart slightly to reveal the pale but taught skin beneath.

The black material wrapped itself around his neck protectively before continuing its journey over his face, covering even his mouth and nose – only identifiably by the small puffs of cold smoke that were regularly exhaled and the bumps in the fabric. The material ends at the top of his forehead and over the tops of his small ears; the thick woollen cloth disappeared under the pale blue hair that adorned his head like an angry crown, wide spikes of which flopped to the side with several more lively ones managing to hold themselves up.

Soul's body was crumpled, curled together like a bundle of old clothes that waits for someone to pick him up off the miserable damp floor, a small child that lay instinctively in the foetal position.

His once deep, rose-red lips are purpled from the blue of the creeping hypothermia that slowly crawled its way inside his body, fighting against the still gently pumping veins to reach his lukewarm core; the same deep blue that came from ugly bruises that rippled and dented his mouth and face - a direct consequence of the two men.

Those painful blossoms of ochre and violet didn't contain themselves however to just his face and mouth, they bloomed vividly under and over Soul's skin, the largest ones appearing on his lower back and upper chest where they had grabbed onto him. Gardens of the same broken petals of colour scattered themselves as though blown by a wind randomly across the rest of his body.

It was as if the men had not only intended to fulfil their lusting, twisted desires but had ensured that not a patch of skin was left unscathed or unmarred.

His hair was plastered in parts to his head, from sweat or dew one could not tell, but the small tears that hung serenely from the tips of the strands indicated at least the latter.

Those warm, red-wine windows are hidden - shut behind eyelids so tightly locked together it was as if they were welded so. Their iron grip did their utmost to beat back the pains of the world and hold back the violent reality that did try so hard to rip its way back in.

Coagulated, semi-dry blood lay in dripping lines across the pale, milky skin of his inner thighs and down the backs of his legs – small pools had completely stained the crooks of his knees whose fronts were just as raw from repetitive rubbing of the coarse road beneath; the small streams pulled down by their own weight leaving convoluted and meandering paths.

Those ivory, slim legs that once were clenched shut by his volition now were locked tight together by the stiff, muscle-binding chill.

His small soul, weakened by constant abuse and wavering from torment, had shattered under the violent forces of the two men - the two whose stubble had scratched and sanded away his soft skin, whose unfamiliar, unwanted size had ripped him open.

*Soul's mind*

The shattered soul had fallen from a non-existent sky, its glinting pale pieces rested on a dead and vacuous black floor that was no different from the same pasty black walls which themselves differed not from the ceiling that was unable to be seen; for no matter how far you walked, the walls would run from your feet and the floor would roll as an infinite plain beneath you – just like the ceiling that floated ever out of reach.

In this empty, jet black space, a set of not so black nails – thick and lined with dry cracks – carefully pluck a pearlescent, glinting spirit-shard that was thin and sharp like broken glass.

Those same claws nimbly lifted the item and secreted the fragile object delicately into the inner pocket of his pin-striped suit.

The tarred nails grew thick and heavy from clubbed, red-leather hands which hid themselves from the wrists up under an eternal suit that existed like the skin, immovable and irreplaceable.

"**Introducing….The magnificent ME, played by the amazing…ME" **The imp took the tone of a belligerent announcer, an expansive voice echoing away into nothingness as a wild chuckle growled and crackled out of its small body as it finished its non-existent introduction.

The creature continued its self-appointed duties, walking and collecting shard after shard, each pulled from the ground as delicately as the one before. It was in a mood most unlike its host, filled with ecstatic elations that ballooned upward; it twisted and turned like a ballerina for it was free, unleashed and personified. It relished the innocence that had been sacrificed for its creation for no longer was it a thought that could be dismissed; now it had life, a life unlike anything it had experienced before.

The movement over the rooftops had stopped, the light noises now silent as the roof-jumper looked over the cross-roads; rather that was the primary reason he had stopped – not even he was able to spring the gap 'twixt the buildings on either side for as narrow the alleys, the opposite was true of the gaping roads; he looked around, and down, seeing a small figurine from his nest atop the mass of wooden tiles.

He watched the small body, waiting for his mind to place it as the pull of familiarity coiled its way around his pink spongy tongue.

One description spoke from his eyes, sparking along his optic nerve and shone on his brain.

White hair.

_Soul!_

The young boy jumped from his perch, his padded feet landing accurately on the pavement beside him.

"Oh fuck, what the hell happened you man…" BlackStar's voice quietly trailed off as he began to see the state his adopted brother was in.

Blood, bruises, all the other signs of someone having raped him were evident but BlackStar was still innocent of the existence of such cruelty to realise it was something more than just a terrifyingly brutal, soul-destroying beating.

BlackStar looked around for something to cover the nude friend lying frozen in front of him, but the remaining rags that hadn't been taken as souvenirs were hindering and soaked through with damp regardless.

Seeing no other option, BlackStar began to unwrap the cloth from around his torso, revealing a thinner and simplistic black cotton shirt underneath.

The long scarf-like wool was then replaced around Soul, BlackStar lifting Soul's body intimately, his hot skin pressed against Soul's icy own as he linked his arms around Soul's upper body. He had eventually wrapped the material from Soul's upper thighs to about his belly button, any thinner and it would afford neither the modesty nor insulation he wanted it to.

The majority of Soul's torso was still revealed though parts were hidden by the clenched arms that wrapped themselves instinctually around him, and as he had been manoeuvred to rest against BlackStar's chest, BlackStar thought it prudent to afford Soul the generosity of his own shirt.

As light as the material was, something was always better than nothing and BlackStar pulled the shirt from between his chest and Soul's back to dress his still unconscious friend with.

Young but clearly maturing muscles rippled prematurely as he exposed and contorted himself in an effort to keep Soul as comfortable as he might.

And, just like the shards so carefully lifted from their positions, Soul too was lifted, Star's arms hooked under Soul's knees and behind his lower back as Soul slumped in a sort of armless hug against his only slightly older, but by no means bigger, friend.

The once quiet steps were now loudened by the increased weight, and Star found it trying his patience to have to walk so slowly as his legs were unable to carry them both with the same vitality as Star's previous parkour.

As Star walked he thought about where he should take the slowly thawing body that lay against him, the water that dripped from his hair onto Star's shoulders feeling hot in the extreme cold, before wisps of water vapour began to steam away in the dawn air, just like the mists that were beginning to be burnt into oblivion by the suns hot light.

The Imp halted that memory from continuing on to the lighter notes where Star and Soul become closer, joined by that incident – a bond that would break the lack of familial love that Star had for Soul, and replace it with something whose strength would never fade, though their journeys would ultimately take them to radically different destinations.

The nearby murmuring brought Soul back through the clouds of pains, as his body successfully countered the majority of pain signals from his ruptured and battered skin.

"Shh Maka, I'll go get something for it now, and you can tell me about that dream too" Marie rose gracefully, her body as coordinated as an expert choreographer. The curls bobbed gently as she stepped outside and Soul looked up at her.

"Don't tell her." Soul said quietly, knowing that it would only bring more questions that would be difficult to avoid. Unnecessary stress was something he had enough of, sitting in old clothes, in an old cell, with old food. He yearned for that hot shower, his back warmed as though the burning stream of water was splashing against him, but alas it was just a memory.

"Why shouldn't I? She's always been there for me… I can't lie to her…." Maka's voice quietly spoke, the smooth whines not wishing to form a single excuse that might lead to confrontation.

Soul wondered how someone like her might be persuaded; he debated between the pure threat of violence or perhaps offering her a favour at some point.

_Chances are Marie would realise if Maka was scared shitless… Oh well, easy choice then._

"I'll do something for you, anything at all, just – make something else up." He said tiredly. The emotional tempest that had been storming in him had been exhausting, and he wished to sleep a black and empty sleep, one without dreams or _him_.

The aged door squeaked open with long notes as Marie slowly opened it; she had with her a faded white tin box, the globally recognised red-cross on it identifying its purpose. The paint had flaked off completely at the hinges and like the door initiated the same songs as it was opened.

Various balms and bandages were revealed to them both and it was clear now that Marie had no fear of either of them, for she had left the door wide agape.

Marie's feminine, soft hands unwound the large rolls of bright white cloth, and after smearing the thick balms and creams over Maka – who sighed in relief as her skin was numbed – gently wrapped the material around her.

"So Maka" Marie said as she held Maka's arm "What was this dream about?"

Soul's glowing eyes stared at Maka's, the natural green threatened with being set alight as Soul waited to see what she would say.

Maka had realised that as beneficial it would be to tell Marie about what happened, the thought of being alone with Soul frightened her, she had no clue what he might do, and to be put in this cell and be as out of place as he was must make him a very dangerous man, she reasoned.

"Oh no, I've forgotten now" her voice was watery, but perked up as she said "but I remember one thing – I was lying in this beautiful field surrounded by flowers and, and– it was just so… nice." She sighed as she looked into Marie's eyes on the last word.

"I miss the flowers Marie" Maka bowed her head and played with Marie's fingers like a small child does her mothers.

* * *

**Author's note/response: I'm hoping that this has made it pretty clear what happened to Soul, and some of you may be pleased to see BlackStar and their relationship in some more detail (his name truncates to BS – what he's infamous for haha). The title is a lyric from Breaking Benjamin's 'Fade Away' maybe you YouTube it, maybe you don't, maybe you already know the song either way I like to give credit where credit is due. Also, last chapter's title was from the song by All Time Low.**

**Geurgh Shkool, first week back. Already got too much work, and there's only more to come. It's so suckish. *head hangs* lemme reply to you guys, and then I'm go cry (not really – I'll just bottle it up like everything else…) Oh! listen to "Call me da'lin" so funny haha xD Good ol' Geordies.**

**Taiora Forever – Just realised I'd been saying Talor (which should've been spelt Taylor too since that's what I'd meant…) the whole time, so embarrassing – Why didn't you correct me?! And now I'm hearing some serious sass, your head going left to right mmhmmming and clicking your fingers all ghetto like :P Massive thank-you to you though, you've reviewed every chapter :O and given me ideas too, you amazing person. I really appreciate your effort.**

**Guest: Wai don't you make an account :'( let meh love you! How can you dream you met me? I wonder what I looked like O.o?(Really curious now) That is seriously weird, seeing as I have blue eyes, and I actually really like green ones O.O So fricking weird! Thank-you so much for your compliments, I don't deserve them :\ feeling all uncomfortable and bubbly at the same time :P**


	25. Chapter 25: Double edged masks

_-Chapter 25-_

Double-edged masks.

* * *

Marie smiled softly as she reassured Maka in a gentle voice "I'll be sure to let you know when it's spring again, maybe I can persuade old Steiny to let us out for a walk, hm?" Marie nudged Maka gently as a warm smile filled her eyes, a small playful gesture to cheer her up.

It was a smile of genuine caring, for Maka had been there long enough for their relationship to flourish and grow into what many might call that of a makeshift family.

It hurt Marie to see Maka so pitiful at times, but the love and dedication she had to Stein always overruled, most irrationally at times, the doubts she held and that would occasionally make themselves known.

"That would be amazing." Maka meant that to the fullest extent of the word, for if she were able to stand and gaze upon such beautiful and delicate life, she would wish to stand there all her days in awe; it had been too long since she had seen the outside and so much had changed.

Marie stood from her crouch, lifting the old medical box with her as she took the few steps in the low light required to reach Soul.

She applied the same measures to him as she had done to Maka but was not nearly so kind or familial; rather she carried out the actions for duty. Soul was to be seeing the doctor soon she knew; but daren't fathom a guess for what, that man was always able to come up with something fascinatingly complex.

Marie kept her private life with Stein separate from work; were she unable to do so, one could only imagine the difficulty someone as sensitive as her would have and besides, it made her life easier.

The heavy door closed once more as she left without a word of good-bye to Soul.

"That was rude" Soul scoffed, trying to inject some humour into the dire situation.

Perhaps Maka would have reacted mutually had she cared, however the dream was still bugging her, and so was too preoccupied to acknowledge him.

"Hey" He tried to get her attention "Thanks for covering for me." He felt that she expected him to say those words, regardless of whether he actually felt them.

She looked up at that and tilted her head to the side, as if someone was but gently prodding it, like an animal that has seen something it can't quite comprehend.

"Why did that feel so real; and, why were you in my dream?" The stuttering Maka from before was hidden, a bit of the old vim had come back, though that phrase was only confidant through the endless times she'd rehearsed it in her mind.

"Heh." Soul let out a single laugh, one that disappeared quickly and felt more like a release of air than anything else. "Not your dream, mine. And not a dream, a memory – albeit altered somewhat."

"Who…Um." Maka paused, her light pink lips pursed gently and her face scrunched slightly in thought "Who was that girl?"

Soul inhaled deeply, his bare chest rose and filled with chill air that cooled his innards slightly. He wouldn't have admitted that he had human flaws, sooner saying that he had a heart of ice and didn't mind the semi-permanent, arctic temperatures. That would have been a lie though, because in the belly of the earth and amidst the ice that sat permanently in his bones, his heart had started to thaw.

But that too was non-consequential because it was slowly being tied in black threads that like a spider's web were enveloping its prey, letting it tire itself - the threads able to only bite more painfully into the softening outer layers. Soul knew not what the Imp was planning, but for some reason it bided its time. There had always been a reason Soul was hard-hearted, and now there was one he had yet to realise was breaking him.

As he exhaled he began to speak, the words flowing believably and certainly as truth often does, "Her name was Aelia, and she was just some girl who'd been following me."

He'd tried to be as dismissive as possible about her, having mixed feelings as to whether he'd done the right thing. Throughout his life he'd zealously believed in leaving no string untied, be it tied in a knot of friendship or around the other's neck 'till they were blue and still.

The blatant tone told Maka that this was not something she would pursue successfully, so she changed course "Who was the man I was with...?" Once more this question felt bruised with rehearsal as it had bounced about in Maka's head for some time.

Soul's face darkened in a scowl, eyes glinting in the dark. The reaction slowly ironed itself out as his conscious character came back to the surface.

He forced a small smile "What did you think of him? Pretty cool guy huh." Soul's body was turned away, as was his face that stared past his one raised knee. His tone of voice was deceptively relaxed and inviting.

"You said it was a memory, was he real?" Glints of hope ran through Maka's voice to the chagrin of Soul and the delight of his inner demon.

_**Hey Soulllll **_the Imp began like some small schoolgirl nervously asking a question _**D'ya think she likes meeee?**_

He ignored the voice and answered her, "Oh he's most real, depending on your definition of real, that is."

"What's his name? I woke up before I could hear it…" She regretfully said. It bit at Soul to hear those words and that tone come through those delicate lips. The pale lips that were gently creviced with dehydration and soft as petals.

_What. No… Not this. If he finds out…_ Soul focussed his energies on suffocating the inklings of feelings that were beginning to orbit his softening heart. The black laces whipped up and caught them, ceasing their annoyances.

_**If I find out…what? **_The Imp knew now, but decided to keep that to himself.

_That urchin-whores would sooner fuck a watermelon than you. _Soul spat.

_**Tut tut. Such poor vocabulary, did we not teach ourselves better?**_

_Get lost. _The insulting distraction had appeared to have worked for the time being.

"His name? Why do you care? You'll never meet him. Not that I could tell you anyway."

_**Oh come now Soully, why so cruel? Though you do have a point, we could always give me a 'cool' name; I've always been partial to Sephiroth, or maybe Isildor, or Xenoni – such classic names.**_

"Because he was so kind to me, everything was perfect with his handsome face and strong body, the comforting jacket…"

Soul narrowed his eyes and he tuned to her. "Listen to me now, that beauty belies the hideous beast it hides. You don't realise how ignorant you are, and lest you see him for what he is your mind will be stripped from head to toe, no doubt." His jealous voice sneered at her, and he hoped that would be the end of the topic.

Once more kismet turned against him.

"If you'd let finish; I would have continued - unlike you; all you do is sit there and mope and talk in your sleep. Do you have any idea how" Her mouth twisted as it tried to find a way of swearing without doing so "bad you are to be in a room with?!"

The walls shouted her angry voice back at her and she suddenly covered her mouth with both her hands. It was unfamiliar – her instinctively recognised voice, the emotion it contained. Everything was too much for her, she hated being with him, but knew she hated being alone even more.

Soul's smile glinted from one corner, the white teeth unnaturally bright as he replied in a much quieter, mocking tone "If you'd let *me* finish, I would have told you he's a figment of imagination. He exists in my head and that's all. Any hopes you have of seeing him again you should quash."

_**Soul, it's not really for you to say that, is it? Look at me, I'm much stronger than before – are you really the one to say what I may or may not do? Besides, I am such a looker…PAHAHA!**_

A heavy silence squeezed its way into the cell and sat itself between them, Maka holding her tongue lest she have another outburst and Soul because he had spoken and now the continuance of the conversation lay in Maka's court.

Crackling static fought its way through the cell door, and Stein's voice echoed quietly around "-t wor-? Does - work?! I Hea- it! MARIE, c-me here!" Stein's happy but broken voice shook through the complex.

Soul was bored now, really, really bored. And he disliked the feeling, too used to the entertainment of battle. He took Maka's serve upon himself as he restarted "What do you know of the war to the south?"

Maka looked up at him, as though surprised he had spoken. "War? Wh..what war?"

"My my, how long have you been here? Know you so little of the outside…?" It was rhetorical as he didn't wait for a response. "It started not so long ago, in Chile – A country in the South American continent. What was it over again? I think it was over the fertiliser deposits - The ruler was no longer favouring us as a trade partner and didn't take heed our threats. It's important to remain firm and carry out your word, would you not agree?"

"Mm…" Maka's voice agreed but cogs were turning that had not turned for so long they'd grown rusty. _What if you have to break your word, if it's better for the one you love? Surely he can't mean every word, what about words said in anger?_

"Perhaps there is occasion for exception, but by and large…" he continued, noticing her hesitation and wanting an agreement.

"By and large… Yea I guess…"

"Y'know, you're rather difficult to speak to, most women I meet have difficulty in not speaking yet you seem to be utterly contradictory." He said it in statement yet the undertones of a question were present.

"I haven't had the luxury of many another's company" Maka spoke back slightly bitterly.

"Oh? She mocks, how quaint." The playful grin tickled his lips as he settled into more familiar territory. Feisty women, not something he'd always had the fortune to befall him.

"I can do more than be 'quaint' whatever the hell you mean by that" Her voice picked up some of the volume frustration tends to have. He was playing her, winding her up, she just hadn't realised it yet.

"Like what? You can 'sit and mope'?" He mimicked her. "All you've done for however long is sit in here and do nerry a thing that might get you out. Have you ever considered knocking Marie unconscious and running while the door's open?"

"What did you say about hurting my Marie?" Stein's voice growled dangerously, menacingly from the now ajar door. "Go on, please." Angry sarcasm filled those words as his eyes were wide with rage behind the glinting spectacles.

_**Uh oh, you're in trouble now! I can't wait to see what happens!**_

"I didn't say a thing about hurting Marie, she's only been kind, so why would I?" Soul's stoicism in the face of such fury surprised and confused Maka. H_ow could he do that…? What made him so strong?_

Stein continued to stare at Soul, his posture as stiff and strong as columns that hold up the Parthenon in Greece as his eyes appeared to scan his face for traces of a lie.

"I mean not to say it would be criminal to damage such a specimen of beauty…" Soul tried to gauge a reaction from the wavelength that was currently buffeting them like the gusts that knock back houses in a furious tempest.

Without warning the wavelength disappeared, and a smile leached onto Stein's face – distorted and uncomfortable. "Come come child, Soul has an appointment we wouldn't want him to be late for…"

_**That was unexpected, but then again our enlightened friend is rather odd… No doubt he'll get you later **_Wild laughter giggled around his head like the echoes in a cathedral.

Soul raised an eyebrow at Maka as if to query whether he'd heard Stein correctly. As Soul rose to leave with Stein he felt as though he was a cripple walking through a minefield, dreading what was to come from the unknown.

* * *

**A/N: Would have upped/finished yesserday but work's piling up now and I had too much crap to do, let alone I was destroyed from the gym. Hope this turned out alright…**

**Guest: That is music to my ears :) I look forward to your username being there if you review :P (Don't feel obliged, mind, I'll just presume you loved it xD )**


	26. Chapter 26: Shinigami pays a visit

**A/N: I had a dream that I had written the ending of this story, the chapter number ended i think… Also, I dreamt I was in some play and I was wearing red baggy boxers and for some reason was on the stage in them but I wasn't embarrassed and then people were clapping and shit, before that though we did that super quick change like tearing clothes off, I was with a good mate too xD And prior to that we were walking in a field bordered by thick forest. Would've been creepy had the sun not shone. (Kinda went from end to beginning but yea, that's how I remember it xD)**

**Sorry for taking so long to update, I've had a lot on my plate.**

* * *

_-Chapter 26-_

Shinigami pays a visit.

* * *

Maka finally had a chance to think about Soul without his distracting presence. What it was about him she couldn't place. She wondered whether it was simply because he was new, or different that she constantly wanted to stare. She slowly paced the cell, soft feet frightful to make a noise lest she scare herself.

She would have too, but the reprieve she feared that sharp, silver tongue would give her helped prevent the action, as well as the ingrained social unacceptability of it.

She didn't know what she did to pass the time between Stein's appointments. She guessed she'd always sleep else ponder through fictional scenarios.

A wild thought jumped into her head, like a mountain lion that jumps from its perch onto an unsuspecting victim, the thought did likewise to her.

_It's because he still hopes._

Hope.

Some parts of a human can't be snapped and discarded, and everyone told her hope was one of these parts. But she had come to realise they were wrong.

She was hopeless. Without it, all alone in the dark.

She had thought about ending it, but never had been able to bring herself to do it, she'd thought of cutting – but there was not a single instrument fit for purpose. She'd thought of starving, but Stein had forced a tube down her throat and poured down it a pulpy soup that was a sickly yellow and made her feel as foul as it looked.

She would've hanged herself, torn her clothes and made a noose, but there was nowhere to tie it to, the ceiling to high, the walls too slick, the door handle to small. She'd figured it out though, she remembered how she'd done it, attempted it rather, after some thought – She'd torn her skirt, just along the bottom, turning the already short skirt into something more revealing. Not that anyone would want to look at those skinny, pale legs. Using that strip of material she'd wrapped it around her neck and pulled it tight, the knot snug and tight. The material had given her its tightest hug, the comforting pain as the heat in her veins beat and pulsed against its flat, pinching grasp. She'd sunk slowly down, into the dark cloud – the dark that was broken and shattered by flashes of light that screamed from her lungs; screamed and yelled and told her to stop, not to sleep, to keep going. Just please keep going. Her throat had gagged and clenched in yanking sobs that were horrid miscarriages of noise.

It had died down though and she'd just felt warm and fuzzy, a coat of tingles bubbling over and out of her skin.

She didn't remember how long she'd lain there, but did recall Marie staring down at her, cradling her in warm arms. Arms so warm they burnt against her chilled skin, tears that fell like acid against her face, the silent mouth, the fiery red lips above not yet being recognised as making sounds.

The following days Marie had checked on her irregularly and constantly. Maka was doted on, treated like a prodigal child.

It was guilt. Guilt stopped her from trying it again, for as fine as it would be for her, the guilt of knowing how distraught Marie would be…

The guilt she felt was the kind found in the betrayal of someone you never realised you held close, the betrayal against someone who's done nought but good to you.

She felt her stomach drop with a sickening thud, the knot growing with weight and size until it pulled her down under it.

Slipping delicately to the floor with a damp thud, her arms linked, hugging her legs – bruised knees close under her chin as she curled up on the floor. Her hip-bone pressed uncomfortably against the unforgiving floor, its bony structure pinching the skin between it and her.

_Sigh_

Maka stared into the distance, aimlessly feeling her existence. The aches of her joints, the sound of her breath, the expansion of her chest. Small things, but things that one doesn't much notice in quotidian life.

She was waiting for something to happen, but did not expect it to. In the low light those wet-moss green eyes aimlessly roamed, travelling about, forgetting what they'd just seen – looking for a focus.

The sound of air being sucked through a space too small woke her from her stupor.

A mask, two skeletal hands and a shapeless cloth pulled themselves into the cell. The grey-white hands lifted out to the sides, like a bird its wings, the darkness appeared to stretch with distinct clicks rupturing from its core.

Its empty voice spoke "Maka."

She swallowed; the small parcel of liquid sticking in her throat.

_I'm dreaming. I must have gone to sleep. _

She blinked.

"You don't blink in dreams, Maka." Its vacuous tone startled her again and wiped the glaze from her eyes.

In an instant she'd reflexively scrambled, her back against the familiar wall. Her body was low and hunched like a hissing cat.

"I seek Soul. Where is he?" The Shinigami decisively spoke.

Maka's mouth had sealed itself shut. Fright had gripped its nasty claws over her lips and the snakes of terror had swarmed into her mouth, biting her tongue.

"Useless child." The death god stated with a tired, more bored than bitter intonation.

The dark beast walked, like touching the ground was beneath him, softly and smoothly to the door before thrusting its hand into it.

The door pierced with a metallic scream of a hundred pitches; bone scraping as his fingers pushed more deeply into it, the palm pressing the handle. It pulled on the door, opening and leaving it hanging silently as it departed the cell, it flicked flakes of metal from its hand.

Soul's hope fluttered in Maka's head.

_Do it. Run. Escape. Flee. _Her head began to list every synonym it knew for the same meaning.

She looked at the open door. There weren't many people here, just her, Soul, Marie and Stein. And that thing. She had yet to figure out who, or what it was.

She was alone, she could go. Stein was busy with Soul, again. She knew as the lights flickered erratically in the corridor. She thought she heard the memory of a scream run down the corridor. She stood in the doorway now, having pushed the broken door aside.

Empty left. Empty right.

Stairs left. Corridors right.

Chirping birds left. Screams right.

The voice sounded familiar, and she found herself slowly being drawn towards its source. She walked away from her exit and began to wander deeper into the Stein's maze of a lab.

The soles of her feet were chilled against the polished, grimy floors. As she walked she left a trail of footprints, the warm outlines soon disappearing leaving only a slight residue.

She turned a hundred corners, walked through several doors, letting herself be guided by the intermittent, raw yells.

The sounds were loud and vicious as she turned the last corner, freezing when she saw the large dark figure standing at the door, peering through the transparent disc that sat in the upper door.

Its shadow slouched against the wall as its hand held the flat of the window. She forgot to swallow as she stared at it, causing her to choke and cough abruptly.

The short noise was enough. She blinked and its shadow was gone and its head faced her.

A second blink and she felt the clammy bones of its left hand resting on her shoulder, crossing over her neck, the cloth poured cold air. The hairs on the back of her neck rippled as they stood up on end, trying to reach out her skin like an army of thin spears.

"Maka, how kind of you to join me... I must decry I am somewhat surprised you turned not left - I thought you adored birdsong?" The voice would have been in pleasantry yet the way the voice rattled out from beneath its pale mask chilled her to the bone.

The hand was heavy and sharp on her shoulder as it guided her towards the door. She walked unwillingly, knowing full well what their destination was to be.

Shivers rippled down Maka's spine, like water running down an old cliff it splashed and flicked across the plains of her back, spreading out in long tendrils that shook her.

Their faces appeared at the window and the movement caught Soul's eye.

An audience...

Upon his second look he recognised them both - Maka and Shinigami.

_What the hell are they doing here?_

Maka was watching Soul as their eyes met and locked. A wildfire tore through her soul as his pain seemed to burn out his eyes and into hers.

Her hand reached up against the glass, the pale palm silently touching the wire ridden sheet in front of her. She couldn't blink, she couldn't decide whether to let his pain consume her or to break that link, turn away.

The choice was made for her as a thunderstorm passed over Soul's mind, dousing his eyes back to steaming embers before Stein's dirty white jacket rippled between them, swishing around his chair as he pulled himself to another bank of controls and instruments.

Maka became increasingly conscious of the Shinigami's hand still resting on her shoulder. It was a different kind of cold than she was used to, the cold pulled heat towards it as opposed to seeping out. As if her body wanted to try and restore the balance between them, the heat drew itself out of her skin and into his hand, her core itself beginning to tire of the fight it had to put up against the empty being beside her.

When it lifted its hand Maka realised just how exhausting it had been, it felt as though lava now surged through her veins, pouring down from her shoulder and making her feel nauseous with the temperature shock.

The dead fingers clicked against the glass, the tips hitting out a tune: ticktickticktick-tick,tick-ticktickticktick.

Soul had silenced himself, mustering what little control his exhaustion had left, and above the unpleasant hum of electricity and moving parts, the ticking came through. Stein had tilted his head as the short melody halted, before shutting everything down - Soul couldn't decide which he preferred: the hum of the devil he knew; or the silence of the one he may be introduced to.

_Maybe just another of Stein's games..._

The Shinigami's presence put him off this conclusion, however, as its chipped face looked at Stein instead of him.

Stein raised himself from his chair, an uncommon occurrence; Soul had come to understand, as he watched the madman move to greet the Shinigami.

Soul's blood ached from the Steins machinations, the hours spent together felt more like days and any hope of passing out was dashed as Stein would simply put smelling salts beneath his nose to wake him with a gagging choke.

The door opened with a bow, as Stein pulled it towards him, drooping his head low to the ground.

"My liege, I apologise for not noticing you, might you forgive me?" The tone dripped with deference, enough that it might pool around Steins feet if it could.

"My dear friend, rise, I simply wished to not disturb you – you were always so particular about it, if I recall well?"

"You recall perfectly, Sire."

The politeness with which they spoke, and the transformation of Stein both fascinated and worried Soul and Maka, as the short dialogue of trivialities continued.

"Have you success in your current project?" Shinigami enquired calmly.

"Some. However, there has been an obstacle I have yet to overcome…" Stein said with a hint of fear.

_Just who is Shinigami? _Soul thought. He knew only the relations of Shinigami that concerned his previous office, but it appeared Shinigami was well known and commanded a terrifying amount of power. Had Stein bowed any lower he would have been kissing the floor.

"It would be pleasing if you could regale me."

"The project started out well, the subject putting up no real fight. Any outbursts were quickly returned and it has been either exhausted or unconscious for most of its stay. Applying high voltage succeeded in producing an effect. Sire, from preliminary experiments, it appears we possess another Scythe."

"Your recommendations?"

"Well, my liege, there are two: Primarily we break it in then find a Wielder, unfortunately I have yet to reproduce the results owing to what I believe is an evolution of the blood. It is truly a unique substance, even Project 5-8-7's didn't evolve at this rate… Secondly we may, upon my failing to find a force release, attempt to buy its loyalty? Employ it perhaps, give it a reason – though from what you tell me of the Scythe that will be hard to do. .."

"Do you doubt my abilities, Doctor Stein?"

Stein's face plummeted, like death itself was staring him in the face. He tried to recover.

"No milord, not at all, not at all!"

A gaseous laugh came from Shinigami, eliciting an awkward mimicking on Stein's half.

"Good. Continue your work for now, until I find a way to control Soul, keep him on the brink of life, hold him over the edge of a cliff, whatever happens ensure he remains our possession."

Stein nodded in concurrence, his hair comically flopping about his head. As he lifted his head once more, he noticed Maka standing next to the Death God.

"Keep your pets in better cages Stein. 'T would be terrible if I had to retrieve them for you…"

The bodiless creature left its threat hanging in the air as it turned and silently walked away.

Stein glared at Maka, he growled manically, snarling as his eyes flashed yellow.

The burst of light left Maka against the opposite wall, slumped, as Stein turned back to Soul.

"Clocks a tickin'!" Stein grinned as he strode back to his control deck and twisted knobs and pulled on handles. The low thrumming before now was stitched with a painfully high pitched whine that ululated painfully in his ears.

Stein's whisper lingered long after the sound-proof door had closed behind him.

"I'll find a way. I always find a way."


	27. Chapter 27: Blood and blossoms

**A/N: Sometimes I wonder if this is worth it, then I remember why I started and think at how bad it could get if I stopped.**

**Taiora – Poppycock! I shall remind you of your awesome-ness oft and frequently! :D And your friend rocks, makes me wonder what you guys are getting up to haha The Soul-Maka tension I hope will be resolved, I have to see what they do though… You make a good point though, shiz will be moving on soon ^^ Stein just left a really unpleasant sound on, that would prevent Soul sleeping or relaxing ceteracetera Stein didn't actually *do* anything as such to Soul last chapter at least, but he is fervently working on trying to get a result (he hasn't been able to reproduce one since the light-room) And you're right about Chrona, unless it's someone else, but I think Stein's talking about Chrona…**

**For all: they've been under Stein's influence for a while, perhaps a month or two. The lack of news from Stein after such a time is what triggered Shinigami to check up on him, and hence Stein's fear.**

* * *

_~Chapter 27~_

Blood and blossoms.

* * *

The high-pithed whine was a thread that pulled and sawed its way through Soul's head. It stopped him sleeping, thinking not even able to ignore it, for the moment he dozed off it would change tempo or pitch or tone to wake him up.

He was nauseous; the bile in his stomach was spinning as he felt the rat of hunger clawing at the top of his stomach, fighting for a way out.

Time passed slowly. Slowly, as the whine prevented the distraction of the mind, the playful hands of imagination bound by the threads of sound.

He hung limply, but not loosely. The sinews of his round, built shoulders stretched as he slid slightly down the table, the muscles in his back pinched the skin into him as he flexed every now and again. He would occasionally attempt to pull himself up, to change the position to a slightly more comfortable one for a short while, before his tensed muscles began to shake from the stress.

He was weakened by the poor diet and broken sleep patterns; the shining armour he wore was being dulled and grated. Chinks threatened to fall if he did not watch them carefully, for all that was holding them on was the fiery weld of his mind.

"Slept well, sonny boy?" Stein's voice was like a fur blanket compared to the background sound he'd put up with all night.

Soul hadn't slept a wink, his eyelids were leaden and be could barely hold his head up; regardless he said with some energy that it was "One of the best nights I've had for a long time."

Stein huffed, clearly he'd been hoping for a different response.

Stein rolled his shoulders as he spoke "Well, let the tea party begin!"

A flurry of punches tenderised his abdomen, the sharp knuckles aiming for the dips in his abs where there was less muscle, each strike winded him slightly more as Soul focussed on releasing his breath in controlled puffs, absorbing each strike. Stein stopped abruptly, a hideous epiphany had dawned on him.

Soul clearly could take any physical punishment, but Stein wondered whether he could take as much mental punishment.

"Lock a pair rats in a cage and there are only two outcomes, they either kill each other or…" Stein trailed off before walking out the room. The shaky mutterings echoed against the whine in Soul's head.

It took some time before Soul understood what was meant by those words, but the exhaustion pinned him against himself, he was just a foggy brain attached to chunks of dead meat, his body's energy source was empty.

The squeak of Stein's wheels let through their grasp every so often the sound of bare feet on the smooth floor.

Being locked together, in such proximity, they knew who it was simply from the sound of their breathing. It stemmed from this intimate knowledge of one another; the knowledge of the sounds of each other's existence, that Soul knew it was not Marie who walked beside Stein, but Maka.

A non-committal scoff blew out of Soul's nostrils, flaring them slightly, as he thought emptily _Sucks to be her._

Soul shivered, the lines flitting across his back like electricity, eliciting pleasurable trembles, lights flickered on in his mind. It felt as though a heavy door was being opened to a vault of energy he knew not the source of.

He looked up as Stein's doors opened into the paltry room.

_Maka._

He regarded her; aloof and from afar. A sick curiosity bubbled up from the depths of his mind, a single poison-laced, black thought.

_**I wonder what her screams sound like, or the way her face will contort…**_

Soul's uncommonly frequent interactions with his helper had allowed him to identify what thoughts were truly his and what were simple manipulations. Nonetheless, the masochistic curiosity tainted his own mind as he watched the dark glow of the lights play and dance upon her skin, cast moving shadows under her eyes which twitched and flitted in fear.

Those still-innocent green eyes that locked onto Soul's, the eyes that spoke a thousand messages of terror and a thousand more of pain, seemed to wonder why she was there.

Soul's own looked back, a bastion of control, a fortress in itself. The great red citadels pulled up their draw-bridges, and threw down the iron portcullises. The walls were armed with men and the moat alive with a thousand beasts unlike any she had ever seen that thrashed and frothed in the murky depths.

He sat in his throne-room, far from the walls, letting the runty general speed about with orders as he shut his eyes. He did not need to hear what the enemy would do, nor the sounds that he would elicit.

Soul had his bands play up a din, the clash of a hundred notes in his head covering the screams that ripped around his defences; the tears and whimpers that threw themselves against his walls and climbed to reach inside, to run from the feral beast that sliced her back.

Stein watched Soul's face as he swung a whip at Maka. Stein's white hand clung to the old, weathered handle. Strands of leather hung loosely, held on by various repairs. From the wooden core handle sprouted nine, long, black strips of the same leather. But these were much more unkind, for along their heads they had been bound with chunks of broken glass and shards of rusty metal, the small heads of these additions poking out like chimneys from a house, grinning satanically.

Soul blinked and looked beside him, he watched emotionlessly as blood ran as beads down her pale back, the drops leaving rosé tracks that striped her back in beautiful lines.

Once he understood, he started to laugh.

It began slowly, quietly the laughs husked out from a dry throat, his head bobbing slightly on his chest, the stubble on his chin scratching him, before picking up tempo and pace.

"God! Pahaah! You are so hahahah! Fucking desperate!" Soul was entering near hysterics, he couldn't help it; he didn't want to. He was going to enjoy this as much as he could. "You should've seen the look on your face when that shitehead of a shinigami came in baahahha"

Stein halted the painful ministrations on Maka, a look of sheer fury enveloping him as his fingers ground and crunched around the weapon in his hand.

Maka was bewildered by Soul, but grateful for his distraction.

Stein's legs wrenched his body towards Soul's own.

"You are in quite the position to laugh, aren't you?" Stein's sarcasm was bloated with anger, his eyes widened and a tight smile upon his lips.

Soul lifted his head, his laughing cut off and the grins ceasing to exist. He leaned forward slightly, so as to get close to Steins face.

"I would say so." The sudden quiet with which he spoke should've been warning enough for Stein, but he was distracted, unused to finding such queerness in his subjects.

The unfamiliar energy had been creeping along Soul's spine, flowing through his veins for the last few moments, and it had taken Soul little time to recognise just what it was.

The undulations in his spirit had been refined, and in his solitude he had focussed on controlling them.

A small smirk tugged at Soul's lips, like a puppy scared to hurt its partner the smirk tugged just the right corner of his lips, pulling it up in the cutest of ways.

"BOO" Soul yelled forward against Stein, the sound echoing with a resounding crash, the waves assaulting, beating against their ear drums like concrete pillars that fell about in a tornado.

Soul's arms glowed a burning white, becoming numbed as the grey shackles melted off his wrists and his hands flew together, clapping either side of Stein's unsuspecting head. The massive pressures sent into Stein's skull effectively crippled Stein.

"Parfait." Soul whispered to himself. The energy that had been required to knock him out forced Soul to his knees; a few moments of recovery were needed to clear the ringing from his ears and to catch his breath.

He rummaged in Stein's pockets for the key, his hand delving into the numerous opening in the lab coat that Stein always wore. It took some time, and Soul's fingers were clumsy as the adrenalin sent shakes throughout his muscles, the exhaustion as he came down from the rush threatened to remove him from reality. He soon freed his ankles, and looked up, wondering why Marie hadn't come running.

Then he recalled Stein's sealing the doors.

He didn't have time to spare as he lifted himself up with his arms and stumbled across to the door, slumping against it as he tried to find the next key from the bundle that would fit his needs.

The keys sharply clanged against one another, as if wailing for the loss of their rightful owner.

Maka silently watched Soul; her ears were in blasphemous pain and her back felt sticky and hot with her own blood.

The feeling of being watched did not go unnoticed by Soul, but her plight was not of his concern, he told himself. He had been in such situations before, none so extreme as this, but similar nonetheless.

_**And how do you intend to get out? You don't know which way is up you fool.**_

The thought made Soul pause, the Imp had a point. He might not like it, but he needed Maka right now, and so he walked over to her.

"Which way is out?" He impolitely demanded, before being reprimanded by his manners.

"I apologise, I meant to say, do you know how to escape?" His voice softened, his fingers playing in her hair and trembling across her jawline.

A shiver of pleasure ran through Maka, the cold touch unbearable as she choked out the few words.

"Only if you take me with you."

_Shit. _

That's the problem with charm. You pull out all the stops; feed what the other person desires so much before pulling back, hit and run and then return. Give them what they crave and they'll become addicted to you, under your spell. But that can cause problems, difficulties that must be managed.

Maka had lost hope, lost resolve, and that is what Soul had shown her, he had given her what she did not have herself, and now she felt she couldn't live without.

_I need her now, but I can always dump her later… I've done it before, I can do it again._

"I'll never leave your side." The perfect words for an easy target, he spoke them as he ran his fingersup her arms, skating the edge of her skin as he unclasped her from the pole she was chained up to. The key was obvious; it matched the rusty old lock Stein had used to hold the frail body in place.

Placing his hand at the small of her back, he pushed her alongside him and kept her up with his pace.

The mechanical door breathed in as the seal was broken, a quiet and long hiss following them down the corridor as their quiet patters left Stein lying alone.

The sound of a kettle boiling; the aroma of dark coffee; they heard a gasp from Marie which froze them in their step, before being comforted as they heard the sound of sweeping replace it.

Under the cover of noise, their quick footfalls resumed. Soul's bloodless hand never left her back, yet she always was in the lead, it was as though Soul feared losing her in the labyrinth of corridors, as the black openings they passed grew in number and confusion.

A sort of heady rush ran through their veins separate to their blood, their hearts pounding anxiously in their chests as fear rolled and spun in their throats, making them want to gasp and exclaim to release the tension.

They didn't, instead they ran on like two misbehaving teenagers nearing their goal they were, blinkered to the walls, blind to the black shadow that only walked but still kept quick pace with them along the wall. Always just in their periphery, the bodiless spy followed them with interest. Had it had a face, you would've seen a small smile encapsulate its mouth as the sunlight obliterated it from view and the double entrance doors swung back into place, linking shining hands once more with a soft click as a fresh gust of flower scented wind played like kittens about their feet.

Autumn leaves crackled happily and skated loudly across the flagstones, Soul stepped on one, feeling the dry body disintegrate beneath his foot. The sun shone hotly, warming their blood and hugging their pallid skin.

Maka looked at Soul; his eyes blazed forward, a deep breath inhaled as he turned to Maka, placing his hands gently on her waist, gently pulling her towards him.

His head was tilted down slightly and he stared down into her eyes. His mouth opened to speak; red lips parting he softly spoke.

"Maka… I want to ask you something."


	28. Chapter 28: Reification and reunion

**A/N free at last… And something awesome happened this week (got her number :D ) anyways on with the chapter and your imagigasms (Hopefully my descriptions will be better this time, I am gonna try and put some more time into this… *yoinks notebook from pocket and reads ideas*)**

**^ Was last week's personal note haha, this week's is that I did something fucking stupid and a friend saw and only her and the person she told knows thankfully. I won't be doing that again.**

**Review-replies at the end my beautiful reviewers and my silent readers – I love you both :) (but the reviewers make me elated on the inside when I read what they've said :D)**

**A/N free at last… And something awesome happened this week (got her number :D ) anyways on with the chapter and your imagigasms (Hopefully my descriptions will be better this time, I am gonna try and put some more time into this… *yoinks notebook from pocket and reads ideas*)**

**^ Was last week's personal note haha, this week's is that I did something fucking stupid and a friend saw and only her and the person she told knows thankfully. I won't be doing that again.**

**Review-replies at the end my beautiful reviewers and my silent readers – I love you both :)**

* * *

_-Chapter 28-_

Reification and reunion.

* * *

The wind played about them, occasionally embracing them in its soft, buffeting arms and throwing their clothes with playful swats before being pulled away in a gust.

"Maka…I want to ask you something…" His lips were slightly agape as though a word sat 'twixt his lips, the invisible arms holding the crushing weight of his mouth apart.

A silence settled like a mist that runs down the hills in the early morning. Worry ran between Maka's thoughts, marring everything. She doubted whether he would say it, whether he would stay with her, and this same gnawing worry cloyed her throat and suffocated her voice.

She started as Soul stepped in to her, an exaggerated twitch that pinched her shoulders up and pulled her head back, the fragile locks of hair also seemed to experience the same jolt of electricity as their thin bodies bounced out before flicking their ends. He placed his feet alongside hers, softly scuffing the clay dirt. Running his hands around her small waist, his palms warmed with her touch as the gesture tickled her skin beneath. Small flocks of goose-bumps flew up and around her back, the soft, nigh-invisible hairs standing to attention.

Their bodies were close, _oh god so close, _his confidence clear as his head tilted down to her and his hands gently pulled her even more intimately against him. The heat of his chest burnt against her.

The warmth in his hands grew in strength; a small, burning glow as heat actively flowed from where his hands held her like fine china from a thousand eras past. Those hands slowly tracked their way up her back, the very tips of his fingers gently scraping her skin as they traced undefined patterns against her bare lower back and the small bumps of her spine - fingers loosely hanging as they rode up her.

The clothes she presently wore offered but a modicum of decency, having been substantially degraded during her stay. Soul was in little better a position, his shirt had been lost to Stein's pleasantries and his trousers were in an embarrassing state of disrepair, tattered and mucky.

Maka watched Soul's face come closer, saw the glowing eyes consume her vision until all she saw was the security of those shivery warm eyes. She could practically feel the heat flow off of him, radiating out towards her, the touch of his lips against hers. Maybe she was romanticising it all, but she didn't care, the exaggerations just made everything feel more intense.

That incredibly gentle touch sent off a million fields of blossoming warmth, fireworks that exploded under the skies of her skin. The blood rose to the top, as if challenged to escape it pulsed against the underside of her skin. But that was all she could enjoy, as his fingertips now ran silently – fearfully along her jaw line, trembling in appreciation of the beautiful structure beneath.

He did nought but touch her lips with his, his sensitive skin retracting almost instantaneously after the contact.

When he whispered that they needed to move the words passed over her in a cloud of air, so enraptured was she in what had just transpired.

He smirked and repeated himself; the girl just nodded slowly, her eyes staring forward blindly.

He turned away and began to walk, his hand slipped down her arm, his fingers briefly hooking under her palm before skipping to the tips of her fingers where they parted.

If you hadn't blinked, you would have seen the smallest crack of white fling itself from one tip to the other.

He strolled away as she stood there in a daze, looking blankly at his scabbed and scarred pale back.

The sound of her quick steps to catch him up humoured Soul, the small sounds quickly disappearing.

_Too easy _he smiled to himself, his lips not stretching far as tiredness reined them in.

They continued to walk together, or rather Maka hovered nearby like a planet orbits a sun, never too far to lose the ability to touch him, but never close enough that they might make accidental contact. Soul was like a walking bonfire, he burned too hot for her to touch but she couldn't survive without his warmth.

They had reached a hot brick road, white stones blazing in the midday sun with a more spartan design of simple red bricks weaving in a helix across one another.

It was a minor road, but an official one which reassured them both. The loss of his swords pained Soul, he missed their familiar weight and regretted the time he could have spent with them.

In more ways than one was he treating them like lost relatives. He focussed on the feelings of loss, recognising the way they squirmed around inside him, feeling the twist of their bodies he began to manifest them inside of him.

He ambled casually as he conjured up a fire inside of him, a fire hot and wild and great in size. Tongues that flicked and slithered after these snakes, fingers that roasted and charred, and a mouth that consumed every unharnessed emotion within him. Soon those snakes of loss were gone and he returned to his familiar coat of cold armour.

Maka didn't know what it was about Soul she liked, she had thought of him oft and frequent and yet still there was a shadow that wrapped itself behind Soul, a mystery she desired to know so desperately. He wouldn't tell her though, not now, but maybe, just maybe he would tell her later.

She watched the muscles on his back tensing and relaxing methodically, hypnotising her as she walked behind him.

The sounds of life began to drift more noticeably through the arid breezes and after rounding a dry hill the beautiful edifices rose up in grandiose, wavering circular tiers that encircled the fortified palace that dominated the skyline even from this distance.

Soul and Maka were beneath even the beggars of that city, such was its excessive wealth. Unfortunately for the couple that were walking alone as Soul and Maka came about that turn, they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and wore the wrong expression when they sneered in revulsion at the haggardly pair's appearance.

Maka had no clue what was happening, one moment enjoying the private warmth that came from in front of her, the next it had disappeared and the sound of screams cut short snapped her awake.

Soul was crouched beside the unmoving couple and had begun, much to Maka's horror, to strip them both. Soul left them no decency, the relief of having a relatively clean set of clothes to cover their lean and questioning states too desirable.

The emotionless way Soul treated the couple, as though they were no more than soft mannequins, implied to Maka that they were dead, though upon her enquiry Soul reassured her that he'd simply knocked them out.

The clothes they wore had been tailored for their prior owners, and it showed in the sleeves and trousers for Soul, and the chest and hips for Maka. Soul's were too short, not comically so, nor notably, but for someone who had become used to wearing stunning suits and uniforms it was irksome. Maka didn't have such qualms, she was grateful to be covered and though she still wore the dirty underclothes she'd entered with, the grimy pile of rags she left behind were a grateful relinquishment.

The perfumes that lingered on the clothes were mixing with the smell of grease and dirt, of damp and mildew like Soul and Maka had been left hanging in a watery closet.

Rummaging through the pockets, Soul found an ID card; he was in luck as it read:

Surname: Rosthfelt

Given names: Elijah D

ID No. : 1837

Unit: Nightwings

Rank: Foot, 2nd class.

The Unit name seemed familiar to Soul, like the sound of a friendly but unknown song that sings a wordless tune. He disregarded the feeling, instead as he approached the checkpoint once more to enter the city, he showed them this ID, and explained succinctly that he had taken his girlfriend to the countryside for some fresh air.

The rest guard's questions sufficiently answered they were waved onto the boulevard.

And what a boulevard it was...

The bricks were a fantastic arrangement of colours that linked together in magnificent dance of swirls and formed huge emblems of the city - the dual lightning strikes lay besides each other. The sandy faces grinned with ingrained happiness, the coarse rough skins smoothed into polished veneer by thousands of footsteps. Three lanes of trees, trees that couldn't be more out of place as wide branches fanned out, one from the centre, the two lanes inwards, creating shaded areas that recreated the deep ocean greens of algae and sea grass. The humidity caught in the air, and soothed the burning in the back of their throats and mended the pink glow they'd acquired under the blazing smile of the sun. The leafy tunnels captured the similar chill of water too, the air whipped and flickered as the currents fluctuated from the heat of the outside to the cool of the inside, allowing for a semi constant, artificial breeze to be created. The winds wiped the hot sweat from their backs, the trickles down their spines freezing.

Wood mulch covered the roots of the trees and connected them in a large river separating the two currents of traffic. On the sides of the roads were the same boarders, but these were held in by a more minimalistic wall, unlike the central stacks of copper and bronze bricks that were marbled with green corrosions and blazed like the sun itself when the light would hit it directly, lighting up like small lamps.

Turning to Maka, Soul asked where they could find the military district. She shrugged with a sad frown, having forgotten much of the layout but still holding the general geography she suggested a direction.

They walked, there weren't many people on the streets, and fewer still filtered past the guards far behind them. From the ground they couldn't see the intelligence and order that the city had been built with, but soon they would for as they rounded their hundredth corner the design of every building shifted slightly to something more falsely innocent, as though designed specifically to be unnoticeable, to not attract attention.

House number 9

Maka looked at Soul, implying that he knock on the door. With a raised eyebrow he moved past her, confidently walking up to the unassuming door that was by no means simplistic, there were a number of carvings of sceneries and vines in it, yet so had every other door a similar dress.

With his hand holding the knocker, three loud raps echoed briefly in the street.

After a short time the door opened and looking at him was a blue-haired young man, whose astonishment could not have been missed even by a blind person.

"Soul?"

* * *

**Thanks for the fav DemonEv. You're too kind :)**

**Tai- It may have taken me two weeks to write this but here it is! Sorry bout the wait, I had a lot of work to do. Yea they made it out, and Stein just got cocky, he didn't consider that he could be knocked out or even attacked with any effect by anyone but Shinigami really. And yea Maka was doubtful, but she had a chance to escape, wouldn't have you taken it too if you'd been locked up for years?**


	29. Chapter 29: Starlit days

Welcome to the family lilbits12 and mandis98 ! *waves like a potato* And omg guise I'm really sorry for not uploading on time lately it's just life's being really hectic right now and university applications and I'm already wishing it was last year because I could spend so much more time on this and I just feel like everything is going down the drain with quality and where this story is going and now I'm addicted to tumblr and go on there instead of writing here. I'm considering perhaps updating every fortnight instead? How would you guys feel about that, my only worry is that I know when I was reading a fic I really liked I was desperate for the author to up every weekend~ Lemme know guys, I mean I love writing and all but time's getting tight and I want to do what's best for both of us :)

Tai - Maka knows the place cuz she grew up heyah :) And thanks again for your support - I really appreciate it OTL And it seems we're in the getting-to-know each other phase but hopefully that'll be over soon and we'll be friends if not more ^.^ BUt shSH (By the way, how you imagined them getting KO'd is pretty much spot on haha 'cept they just gonna get one helluva sunburn XD

* * *

_-Chapter 29-_

Starlit days.

* * *

Soul slowly blinked; his eyelids holding closed as he swallowed. It seemed that since Maka had forced him to keep her soft and useless self around him, since he'd let the Imp the chance to stretch its legs beyond his control that his armour had rusted and chinked and begun to peel. It was armour that had saved him from countless torments yet here he was letting it slowly be torn, ripped from him.

A lone thought announced itself like a freshly lit match does a black room.

_BlackStar._

He opened his eyes as slowly as they'd closed, eyelashes blurred the edges of his vision as he stepped forward disbelievingly.

The joy that had been twisting tighter than a spring inside his stomach burst and sent a thousand butterflies into his body, the soft insects smashing and hammering against the walls he'd built within himself, forcing themselves through his veins.

His hands trembled involuntarily, subtly as the muscles held excesses of energy and wished to dispel it in any way they could.

Blackstar was wearing a simple black outfit, how he didn't roast when he went outside was beyond understanding though the icy air that wrapped itself around Soul's ankles hinted at the explanation.

The cold air desperate to escape bounded into Maka's ankles too, her feet receiving a pleasant touch from the lethargic animal.

The short wool jacket that covered Star - from its thick high collar that reached to the base of his hairline and the body which hung down to his mid-abdomen; held short smiling silver chains that light winked off of as they ran along the tops of his breast pockets.

The same chains that had happily chirped as he'd opened the door.

On the left breast pocket was an assortment of silver badges that were woven with glass and blue dye thin as threads - the most important of these being a single four feather wing with a spear through it.

The shortness of the jacket showed the thin sweater beneath; of a matching colour, it too was woollen but had lines of thicker stitches vertically running down it forming rigid canals in the cloth.

His trousers were of a finer material, smooth to the touch the black chinos hugged the toned flesh they tantalisingly hid.

Upon his feet a sharp pair of shoes, pointed with grey-silver laces breaking the dark uniform with surprisingly fashionable lines.

The chains on Blackstar sang briefly before being silenced as Soul stepped forcefully into him, as if trying to stand inside him. A soft thud resounded with the impact, the whoosh of air as their clothes exhaled between them.

Soul's arms gripped Blackstar tightly, his palms spread wide as his fingers clutched his back, the shock of this registered in Blackstar's slightly delayed return of affections as his arms too returned the embrace.

Their faces were buried in the crooks of each other's necks like two jigsaw pieces that fit cleanly together.

Maka was inclined to believe there was a lot of unseen history between them, the sort that shifts a purely Platonic relationship into the grey area, where the strains they'd endured had burdened the ability of them to stay safely apart, the weights of experiences pushing them closer together.

Blackstar's cheek was smooth against Soul's white stubble, in fact, it was as Soul felt Star's clean-shaven cheek on his that he desperately wanted to remove the coarseness from himself; he would never admit a feeling of embarrassment but would admit that at how very unbecoming it looked.

"How did you find me, Soul? Hell, how are you even here? You were fighting for the southern nation when we separated?" Star's voice was muffled, had it not been you would have heard a lighter, gayer and more innocent pitch that would've contrasted Soul's own.

Soul inhaled Blackstar's scent. His smell of light wood bark and soft spices, cinnamon and various combinations that aren't describable made you want to stay and breathe him in all day.

Soul sighed and released him, gesturing his head backwards as he spoke "It was this girl, Maka, she led me here. I have been on one ungodly journey since we parted…"

His hands still clasped around Star's shoulders, he held him back only a short distance. Star's own hands had dropped to Soul's waist and Star stared at Soul as Soul reabsorbed all the changes in Star's features.

He was still young; albeit it a bit more tired it seemed - bags beneath his eyes attempted to disguise themselves as skin. It was whilst himself being examined that Star was able to see his long lost friend's face. It was gaunt, considerably so as his cheeks caved inwards and his cheekbones stood sharply beneath his skin; the hidden body beneath the clothes would be similar no doubt, Star thought.

A dire curiosity inhabited Blackstar and he couldn't wait to hear what Soul would tell him.

Maka, in the meantime, had been standing afar and slowly turning a painful red. Such a strong sun on such pale skin was having a predictable and expected effect. As the discomfort rose, so did her willingness to override the convention of leaving people to reunite in privacy. The awkwardness of her interrupting she knew would be annoying but she really couldn't take being outside much more.

Blackstar noticed her face pulling various expressions as she battled with herself, and gave out a small laugh, a childish and chalky sound. Soul looked round to see the reason and much as he delighted in his laugh Soul was annoyed at having his friend's attention diverted.

_***Someone's* being selfish**_ The imp chortled at Soul's feelings.

_Get fucked you piece of annoying crap. _Soul was seriously not in a mood to deal with his inner demon and refusing to stain such a joyous occasion.

Surprisingly the Imp complied '_**Alright alright, no need to get your knickers in a twist…**_'

That dealt with, Soul smiled curtly and gestured for Maka to come up.

The relief was clear on Maka's face as the cool kiss of shade laid itself upon her.

"Blackstar, I want you to meet my companion – Maka. Maka this is Blackstar, a very old acquaintance of mine."

Blackstar smiled cheekily as he heard Soul speaking, as if Soul's posh accent and archaic dialect prevented his being taken seriously by Star.

_Wow, he's really changed._

The reunion had released an equally pleasant sensation for Star; it was an inferno of happiness, so bright that it burned away his worries for the day and intoxicated his thoughts. His laughs came more easily and his smile was worn wide.

Maka thought the smile was for her as Blackstar held out his hand, and Star was too kind to let her know otherwise, though the look he passed Soul made his emotions clear.

Blackstar ended the pleasantries with a sincere welcome, asking them in.

The door closed behind them, tall and ornate; the varnished oak warmly slept, its thick body keeping out the glaringly loud heat.

The corridor they entered was higher than the already daunting door they'd just passed, the pale, cream-colour flowers embossed into the wall paper lay like flattened vines up the walls, covering from the white ceiling down to about mid-thigh before meeting a redwood border, beneath it were varnished planks that echoed when rapped with knuckles.

The pan-ceiling tapered in with a simple border, allowing the gold and faux-diamond chandelier to hold its twinkling centre-stage.

From its wide spun base were perforations that breathed cool air gently down, so that as you passed beneath the waterfall stroked your skin.

The doorways were open and high to allow for good passage of air, and the equally high ceilings of similar design reinforced this deduction.

Strong regal colours bounced out from the taught sofas that were arranged to face towards the iron stove that sat in an old fireplace.

The fireplace itself was bordered with a vanilla marble hearth that like unmixed white fudge held lines of darker flavours throughout. Adorning this were a few personal items – mainly pictures of Blackstar's family house, and one of him and Soul standing in front of two handsome horses – Toride and Kala – Star's horse was a moonlit white with dapples of grey blotching its sides, as though someone had taken a large pen and flicked the creature and try as he might Star had been unable to remove the stains.

Star invited them to rest on the sofa backed by a flawless glass window that let in an astounding amount of light but seemed to strip from it the unpleasant heat that it often brings.

Soul was astonished at how wealthy a home Star seemed to afford, recalling that he worked as a low-paid intelligence officer when they'd parted – himself being squired to a major.

Evidently Star knew exactly what Soul was thinking.

"It isn't my home Soul, I couldn't afford something like this, even though I do well enough." Star smiled forgivingly, assuaging the guilt of scepticism that briefly alighted on Soul's face.

"To whom does it belong, then?" Soul asked softly, as if to do so at any other pitch would be considered rude.

"My father was reassigned to this city, ironically named 'Death City' since there hasn't been a fatal crime here for decades. He owns this but is currently out at work; I help him with his paperwork and such, so I'm here most days."

Star reclined in an ornate armchair. The bright yellow flowers stitched into the crimson material contrasted garishly with Star's outfit as his arms slid across carved wood arms. From the squelching clicks of his spine and the way Star reclined, Soul would say he'd have been hunched over for the most part of the day.

"And the nights?" Soul enquired, pulling his voice up at the end as his eyebrows followed the change.

"On patrol – graveyard shift. None of the citizens notice us running along the rooftops and lurking in the alleys. You really should see this place at night Soul, it's breath-taking." Star broke off, organising his thoughts. "_The Plodders_ we call them, they're the general foot-patrol, police most of the lit areas. Main streets and suchlike, they normally don't have to do much, crime is pretty low here. But yea, I mean dude, they don't do more than give directions half the time. Us _Nightwings_ (Star speaks with pride), we're the real protectors. You'd be surprised what we catch, don't get any public recognition for it – Shinigami prefers it that way. I'm rambling aren't I?" Star sheepishly grinned.

Soul shook his head "Not at all, it's nice to hear, go on."

Maka watched them, because although she was sitting right next to him, Soul seemed to have forgotten her existence. She didn't know whether this was good or bad, she'd always been quiet, introverted – but nonetheless still enjoyed talking with people. She wasn't a loner. At least, she didn't used to be.

Alienated from the partners, she took the chance to consider her options. Honestly she didn't know why she'd picked this house, well, she said she didn't. The memory of her father telling her that '_If she ever needed help, needed somewhere, someone she could trust. House number 9. Stealth district. House with crows in the door.'_ Well here she was, but she wondered whether the inhabitant she was supposed to be looking for had moved on. The young man, whilst familiar with Soul, had no recollection of her whatsoever, and so she returned to pondering whether her decision was correct.

"Do you know Spirit?"

Maka's delicate voice was lost in the rowdy laughter as they told stories of mishaps, misadventures and mistakes of a hundred proportions.

Her courage spent, Maka resigned herself to waiting once more for someone else that might help.

A person that was soon to arrive.

* * *

A/N: Look at me uploading even later than planned AGAIN. Sorry guys, been a wee bit busy and life got in the way again. Hopefully the description of Star's quasi-residence is okay, I mean, it looked pretty sweet in my head but shit. Words are so vague, y'know?


	30. Chapter 30: Hidden pains

**Sorry about skipping last week too, but I have Maths Coursework and exams coming up in the next couple weeks and it's really important that I do well in them so that I can get good predictions for Uni…**

* * *

_~Chapter 30~_

Hidden pains.

* * *

Blackstar and Soul were both perched on the edge of their seats, listening to one another and chortling at each other's misfortunes with numerous stories giving occasion to banter.

Maka had watched Soul for the majority of the time, having not seen his face with such varied emotion the cogs in her brain sat still as they watched the play unfold.

The heavy drop of a door unlocking pricked Star's ear, he looked towards the hearth-clock, a creamy face peered back through the glass, tattooed black numerals ran around the edge of the disc and thin, bulbous-headed hands pointed to the time.

"Shit…" The small word drew out its beginning to quieten Soul, who now looked at his friend with a silent query upon his face.

Star hurriedly breathed, "It's Lieutenant Greeves, he usually checks up in the afternoon, to pick up what paperwork I've done and give me more usually… You two wait here, don't make a sound."

He jumped up and pivoted on his hand as he flicked himself around the chair and towards the doorway, the rustling of papers like wind through a dry forest as a warm gust came from outside.

The creak of the door as it slowly opened.

The muffled heel-click foot-stamp salute.

The bark of a superior.

The sound of a slap, and the slam of a closing door.

A sigh crept along the ground, trying to hide from his guest's ears under the noise of a bundle of papers dropping onto Star's bronzed mahogany desk, joining many others.

Maka looked towards Soul at the heavyhearted sound, who returned her wonder with his own in a single look, breaking it as Star started walking.

He re-entered with a soft smile, you would have thought that nothing had happened yet beneath it laid shame and submission similar to the feelings of a child struck by its parent, the humiliation of the red hand print that clothed half his face, that sunset pink that clashed against his porcelain skin and his glistening seaweed eyes.

"Well, I'm glad he didn't stay, I don't think you guys are really supposed to be in here but it could be worse – Shinigami could have dropp-" The rasp of nails against wallpaper cut short Star's optimistic sentence as a shadow poured around the doorway, the warble in his voice audible as it tried to ride out the emotion beneath…

"'Could be worse?' Oh my, I thought we'd such a pleasant relationship Blackstar, especially owing to your father's being a particularly close colleague of mine." The voice carried a smile, a smile that was edged with the sharpest blade.

Star blanched; paper-white he looked paler than the letter that was being gently tapped between Shinigami's hands. "Sire! No, of course not, that's not what I meant!" Star dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

"Oh?" Shinigami tilted his head with the same sickly sweet voice as before "And what, pray tell, did you mean?"

"I simply wished to not have to leave my guests again - it's poor form as a host. Sir, I'd swear my life to it!" Star voice fluttered as leaf in the wind and travelled just as quickly.

"How can you do that, when you've already sworn it to the service? But, the sentiment is understood. Stand, feel forgiven. I only came to drop something off. Prior to my departure, I must congratulate you upon the stellar recommendations I have received of you." Shinigami paused as he turned with the letter in hand, that tapping halted and the envelope rested upon the top of his hand "Yes, perhaps you do deserve this."

The letter dropped in front of the kneeling Blackstar. He didn't look up until the damp chill that monster always brought was gone, nor did he take the letter until raising his head and seeing no one.

He stood up with a slight wobble and a pounding heart, grinning he spoke optimistically as he played with the parchment "Pretty close hehe".

An embarrassed hand sought the protection and comfort of the back of Star's neck as the grin hid Star's feelings more completely now.

"I'll be off-duty in 4 hours. I'm afraid I can't spare anymore time – much that I'd love to, but work's calling. Why don't you explore the city? I'll come find you, don't worry about getting lost."

The same plastered grin bandaged Star and made it clear to Soul that there was going to be no discussion of the now fading hand print that marred the young soldier's complexion.

Soul calmly walked close to Star, mimicking his slightly hunched position. Now it was his turn to feel embarrassed.

"Star, what would be the point, we're broke – couldn't you tell from the sight of us?" Soul murmured with a touch of surprise that his friend hadn't picked up on their appearance. "For God's sake, these aren't even our own clothes…"

Maka shook her head at the pair, she sat down again – meeting her old friend loneliness. She wondered if any of her old friends would greet her like Blackstar did Soul, she wondered if they even remembered her.

In their privacy loneliness began to point out all the tiny sounds one doesn't usually acknowledge, but in the loud silence they become intrusive: the slow and constant hiss of static from a radio on an empty station, the precise ticking of a clock, the sound of her own breath.

The brush of money sliding from hand to hand, the swearing of repayment, these brushed up against Maka and signalled the end of her reverie.

They were in possession of quite some money owing to Star's generosity, and as a result would have little to no obstacle in purchasing their needs and wants.

The first step outside smacked their faces with a sweaty heat, the grasp of air conditioning quickly evaporating under the sun which, whilst not so high as at a roaring noon, still held a burning smile that for Maka had the immediate and unwanted effect of tightening her sunburnt skin.

Freedom makes one bold, and it was this boldness that was beginning to prod Maka into talking with Soul, without attempting to ask for the forgiveness of some mistake she may have made before even speaking.

"Soul, we don't have any money, what are we going to do?"

"No need to worry, Blackstar gave us a comfortable amount of money."

"What?!" Maka was indignant at the thought of having only just met someone to have to suddenly leach off them.

Soul smiled understandingly – much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced – or seemed to face – the whole eternal world for an instant, and then concentrated on _you_ with an irresistible prejudice in your favour. It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey. Precisely at that point it vanished [1] – and Maka found herself staring at Soul once more, the sunburn masking the rosy emotion that painted her cheeks.

"We're old friends, and it's more of a loan than a gift. So get a hold of yourself please, people are beginning to stare and we wouldn't want them to realise just how out of place we are."

Maka did as she was told, and brushed herself down for no real reason – fussing with her clothes as a bird that preens.

Soul spoke once more, instructing her to link arms with him, to put a smile on her face and pretend they're a happy couple – at that, her hands started to tremble with nerves, she'd never been a great actor, nor had she much experience with how to 'act' a relationship.

Soul reassured her once more that he would take the lead, that she need only respond to him as she would to the man she desired. Little did either of them know how real this act might become.

As they walked back into the heart of the city, smells of toasting bread and fresh loaves tickled their stomachs. The aromas of rich dark coffee coasted around them and enticed them to a local café.

They sat at a relatively cheap looking table. The top was a plate of glass with silver legs supporting it precariously. The netted chairs were made of palm fibres and in the sun the leaves were now a burning gold, which pressed through into them.

It wasn't long before they were served and after eating enough bread to cause raised eyebrows in the kitchen they left.

Soul gently bumped into Maka, their sway synchronised and he slid his hand down her arm and into her hers, loosely knitting their fingers.

For the weather Maka thought his hands were surprisingly wintry, she squeezed them to cool herself down slightly.

His hands were softer than she'd thought they would be, smoother – not calloused like most soldiers who fought. Granted, he hadn't fought for a while, but a soldier's hands don't usually change so much.

Soul moved slightly closer to her at her squeeze, but didn't stop looking ahead. The pavements, thick streams of stone that stank of a wealthy city were beginning to become more crowded.

The sounds of street-performers and the smell of barbecues were becoming more evident as was the sound of unrefined speech. Maka knew they were heading to the less discerning area of the city, it was arranged such that it was a hill, and the higher you climbed, the more likely you were to see servants dressed in clothes much too conservative for the environment hurrying about with ridiculous haste.

Maka spoke "This isn't the right way, we're going for clothes right? Knowing you, you'll want the most expensive thing possible…"

Soul finally looked at her stony faced at her sarcasm. Maka worried that she might have crossed some line but his sudden and surprising laugh quelled that.

"Lead the way my princess" Soul said slightly patronisingly, though the compliment still lit Maka's heart.

"Very well, I shall!" Maka's mood had changed too, it seemed Soul's good humour had infected her and she was quite content to put on a ridiculously posh accent and turn her nose up.

The posture change made quite a difference, and as they turned around and began trekking back uphill the light bounced off a nearby fountain and glittered over Maka's face, stray droplets acting as tiny stars about her.

Maka looked stunning, her cheeks looked not so much gaunt as they now did regal, the pale skin warmed in the sun to a rose giving her a natural blush and the wind pulled the dress tight and close to her beautiful figure.

It tugged around her waist, revealing her slim body, and pulled up slightly at her legs to hint at their length that was inordinately in ratio with her torso from which starved twigs no longer sprouted but rather the milky skin of a youthful girl.

Her hair blew back around her face and as she turned she laughed – there was something enchanting about her laugh, the way it seemed to fill a void you don't know is there, the way it awes and pulls you in. How it makes you want to join in though nothing might compare to it. The lilting song died down as she saw Soul's face, it did not die completely just transformed itself into a smiled that went up one side of her face more than the other.

It was calm as usual but now his eyebrows pulled up and his face was almost pained. It looked as though he had come across some terrible realisation of fate that would make an ordinary person sit down and hold their head between their knees in a depressing position.

Instead Soul cleared the expression and mirrored her, his white teeth peeking from between his slightly parted lips. His mischievous grin matched a veracious wink.

"Maka, let's skip, shall we?"

* * *

**Terra SyNdrome : That email was the best thing to wake up to, thank you**

**I made my excuses at the beginning, leamealone :P**

**[1] Adapted from The Great Gatsby. I just think it's an amazing passage.**


	31. Chapter 31: Death City

_~Chapter 31~_

Death City

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The sky was a sombre red, a sleepy burn that imitated the colours of a dying fire, the small flickers of orange found in the clouds that desolately striped the image.

There were never any birds that flew high above Death city; always they were flitting about from rooftop to rooftop in rotund bundles of fat noise but never did they reach higher, never did they dare face the sun's full gaze.

The city itself was an organised myriad of roads that attempted to mimic a spinning top, roads looped around tier upon tier, being sliced by the broad highways that led to the steps afore the citadel, that above the great entrance gates read the blocks embossed "Be not afeard, ye who enter the house of Death".

Each tier of housing changed design, respecting the regulations within the bands.

The lowest tier was by no means the most impoverished, for there was not a single dilapidated house in Death City, but the glamour with which they were designed lacked the gusto and needless frivolities of those that floated above.

It was as though each tier looked down upon the other with a desire to outdo it in flamboyancy and unnecessary flourish.

The lowest of the tiers was built of yellows and light oranges, none too different from the other, lest they be conspicuous.

Each home the same sturdy brick, the surface as mottled and sun beaten as the next, with grooves where rain had run fast and often in pretty rivulets.

The windows of plain glass were bordered with shutters of a tranquil blue, the small squares looking contentedly upon the road below.

It was surprising to find that each allotment had a small garden, no more than three strides out given the space constraint, which separated it from the bustle of the traders and merchants that hurried to and fro the markets.

It was not uncommon to see small patches of these gardens being cultivated for organic use; some grew ordered rows of carrots, others the tell-tale heads of cauliflower.

Occasionally the vines of a tomato plant would wind their way up towards the window baskets holding petite flowers that were they not shaded by the buildings, would be burnt to a crisp in under a day.

The hedges of most homes were of some vague specie of thick bush that was easily pruned and shaped, though these were intermittently broken by the residents who chose the gnarled arms of grape vines to enclose them, so that they might have sweet fruit to eat.

The roads that bore the weight of so many feet and hoofs were often shaded by colourful canopies, striped techni-colour coats that hung in the breeze – though these were usually confined to the plazas that wafted a pleasantly cool breeze amidst the gentle hush of a fountain.

The tier above was of sky blues and pale creams, the buildings coated with a sheen that caused the rock underneath to have the same shining skin of a pearl, that when mixed with the baked ceramic blue blocks that interrupted the clean background, created a picture of such beauty that one had to stop and wonder just how wealthy the owners were.

The blue was rich and strong, it was deeper than the sky's but lighter than the sea's, and the dye they used to make it would have come an incredible distance for Death City was situated a considerable distance from any coast of any kind.

These houses had different roofs, the baked clay roman tiles that interlinked in the tier below were removed and instead replaced with huge slanted mosaics, the roofs each telling a different mythic tale of bizarre creatures that would either kill man, or be killed by man.

When viewed from a distance the organized planning of this band was quite astonishing, for it created one huge flowing tapestry that coiled around the city, that any visitor might see some part of it, but that would take a day to read it all.

The houses had become less homely however, and much more of a display of wealth, entrances that took several people to open it were common, the atria were the size of cottages and though there was little plant life, the potted plants were never bland but always in a magical dance of colour, as though their bodies were a manifestation of a rainbow.

These plants weren't naturally found anywhere, but were once again an expression of wealth and the taste of the owner.

Those involved in the sciences often had these things punctuating the deserts of life in their homes, genetically modified that they might give a humble glow at night.

The upper tier. The upper echelon. The upper wealth.

This tier ceased to be comparable to any other, those who were used to wooden or stone homes in the country would have difficulty justifying these buildings, for they loomed above even the most triumphant of temples.

Under the sun the huge splashes of gold leaf that bloomed intricately along the walls would give the impression that the house was oozing money.

The general material they were made from was amber rock, that in each grouted crevice was also painted with gold, that the building looked as if someone had made it with no other intention than to spend money in any conceivable way, that gold would pour like syrup from between the huge masonry blocks, that it would gild every part of the massive constructions and the enormous pillars.

These building ceased to accept the term 'house', deserving of no less than mansion, but more fittingly perhaps miniature palaces.

To give an understanding of the size of Death City and to the size of these elaborate creations, the structures number in the mid hundreds, yet even though their size was aweing they had yet to reach the height of walls of the Citadel.

In this band there were four main families, each in a quadrant.

The owners of these palaces had the power to bend the constraints the others had to follow.

In each family there existed a sort of style, a particular colour palette that was slightly different to the others, that held a distinct but subtle signature that the human eye could just about see.

These families flaunted the contiguousness of the stories below and largely ignored the design rules, not to say they didn't have to incorporate something to work through the loophole in the legislation.

The mansions had pieces of a story scattered upon their walls, and those that had large domes upon their roofs would wrap their requirements around this, allowing for a much tidier look beneath.

Not that this made much difference, for the walls of the buildings were high enough that they reached over the roofs of those below, that as you walked up one of the highways you would hold your neck cricked back for such a time to take in the magnificence and opulence that radiated like the heat of a burning hearth on an icy night.

These colossal structures did more than exist before the Citadel, they seemed to quash those beneath, as though the weight of their existence was the only important thing that should be seen, that those below were merely an intricate carpet for their silver lined feet, a muddy reflection of the complex designs that they held.

A particular thing would stand out to the newcomer to Death City, it was one of these small palaces that rather than build a solid wall had made instead a stunningly huge stained-glass window. The effect it would create inside must have been fabulous, for from the outside the mixing of colours was masterful. The glass looked as though it had been painted in oil, the style of Van Gogh's Starry Night springs to mind.

Maka looked to Soul's giddy smile, his grin that painted across his face even lighted upon his eyes.

"S..ss..skip?" Maka queried worriedly. Pretending they were in a relationship was one thing, but to _skip_ up to the mid band, to high-end shops… No doubt they would draw unwanted attention to themselves.

After mentioning this, Soul's head tilted as if unsure she was being serious. Her look remaining static, caused his smile to warble, a frown began to fight on the surface but a reinforcement of control quickly destroyed the visible doubts.

With a smile not so broad, Soul assented and instead opted for a childish swinging of the arms, to which Maka more easily consented.

They strolled quickly, the breeze pushing them gently up, and the higher they rose the less obvious inhabitation became. Beneath their feet and through great plates of metal they heard murmurs of rushing water, the torrents briefly reminding them of Stein's version of a shower.

Maka's hand shivered, and in the sun she held onto Soul a bit more tightly, bumped shoulders with him a bit more occasionally than excusable accident would permit.

The road they had taken slowly plateaued and the signs that jutted out like waving hands beckoned them towards 'The best suits in the land', 'Beautiful hand-made dresses', 'Free tailoring' and so on.

Maka tugged on his hand, pulling him forward like an eager dog to a particularly elegantly designed store. Its entrance was a black veneer, simple curves of painted iron bordered the glass windows like crawling vines. The door was not much taller than they however, and they both ducked reflexively.

A wild explosion raced past their ears and out the door, causing them both to involuntarily tense. Still hunched over they quietly ran to the back of the store, where the sound had originated from.

Behind a rack of black suit trousers and beneath the smell of dry cleaning, they spied the gentleman who clearly was the source. The two large men flanking him were so generic as to be unmissable in a crowd – they fitted in much too well, unnaturally so.

Returning to the main gentleman of interest, who was pointing what looked to be some silver contraption with a short muzzle and squat base that sat in his hand at a cowering man who held up a partially destroyed and still smoking jacket.

"Please Sir, I'll have another made, I'll oversee it myself, Please!" The whimpers stumbled quickly out the man's mouth.

"I should think so, I would hate to get anyone else involved…" The other threatened.

Whilst this was transpiring, Maka had been wedged in a peculiar position, one with which her right leg was most uncomfortable with and let her know this with a cramp.

Maka reflexively stretched out her leg to deal with the pain, but in doing so struck one of the wheels of the rack and sent the thing rotating out, revealing them both.

The sound drew the entire observed party's attention to them, and their stares were discomforting, particularly that of the middle man.

Tall, thin, his face was lightly paled with make-up. His hair held three silver bands clipped in, their purpose would remain unknown to Soul and Maka.

He turned to them, moving with the slowness of a minute-hand and narrowing his eyes.

"You were spying on us." He stated with a tone of disbelief and scent of revulsion. "Moreover, you were spying on me!" His anger was now more recognisable in his voice, and their eyes were drawn to the pistol in his hand, and thence to the second that was revealed from his rotation.

He continued "Do you realise I could kill you both and not a thing would come of it?"

The superior overtone seemed to click one of Soul's old habits, the habit, that is, of not accepting any such attitude. "Please" Soul scoffed

"Do you realise how presumptuous you are? Maybe you could kill a girl… It's what I would expect from someone like you after all, with your silver-spoon upbringing and inferiority complexes because Daddy has yet to properly acknowledge you as a competent man. But do not think for one second that I would be such easy prey – any peasant can kill a man on his stomach, but can you kill me on even terms?"

Soul's challenge caused the sunburnt Maka to turn a pallor that is rather peculiar. Blood and ash never mix well in the skin.

The two generic guards stepped in front, only to receive a silent glare from the three-banded man that would communicate how their intervention only proved the insult before.

"Ha! He challenges me?" The man spoke rhetorically to his guards before confronting Soul again.

"If that's how a black footed tramp like you wants to die so be it. I'll see you in the citadel – tell them you're there to fight Death the Kid. Before I leave, just so you aren't shot for insulting the guardsmen with your presence – what's your name?"

"Soul. Soul Eater Evans." He growled back. His habits had earned the better of him, and he hated himself for it, recounting the times where his stone cold, emotionless face would frighten information out of the wiliest prisoners.

"Well then, 'Soul Eater Evans', make sure you come properly dressed for defeat, perhaps have your pretty girlfriend organise a coffin." Death the Kid dropped the conversation and spoke to the tailor who had been hoping he'd been forgotten.

"Maybe you are no longer worth my custom, tailor." With that, he left, the small bells above the doors harmoniously jingling as though a satisfied customer had left with a number of products.

Standing up and brushing themselves off, they attempted to ignore what had just occurred. Even the salesman who now assisted them appeared wary to bring it up.

"Do you have any clue who you just challenged Soul?" Maka whispered forcefully.

Soul continued to look at jackets as he replied "No not really, I'm only here by chance."

"Then you're a fool, that was Death the Kid, the SON of Shinigami!" Maka was struggling to prevent herself being overheard.

"What's got into you? Since when were you one to be so cocksure?"

"Since you decided to throw your life away before I had the chance to repay you." Maka stated with a deflation.

"Well, we'll worry about it later, I'm sure I can give him a good run for his money, and no doubt Star can teach me some tricks." Soul made a point of shrugging to signify the end of the topic.

Maka's point fell on deaf ears as he continued browsing, not oblivious but simply refusing to acknowledge her point.

"You'll be fighting him later…"

* * *

**A/N: So exams are over, so is Maths CW, but now I have English and German CWs to do. So I'll try and update not this weekend but the next, perhaps if I have time I'll update sooner. Next chapter or the one after is gonna be an epic fight! Also, I tried to give you an idea about the place we'll be in for the next few chappies at least. (p.s watch Sword Art Online – so good!)**


	32. Chapter 32: Labyrinths and weapons

Sorry that it's been so long but I forgot I was flying last weekend so I was tired from that, and I've been doing so much work it's unholy, seriously have hardly had time to write. Buuut here it is, a late Christmas gift to you all – I could have posted a 2k on Christmas, but thought a bit longer would be better.

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_-Chapter 32-_

Labyrinths and weapons

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"What the hell was going through your mind Soul?! Why the hell would you challenge someone you don't even know?!"

Blackstar was shouting, his voice bouncing around the small room they were in.

He had laughed when Maka told him what Soul had done. And he'd laughed as she repeated it. And then he'd stopped laughing when he saw that neither of them was.

The cool skin had furrowed above his eyes which had widened in disbelief like puddles in a thunderstorm. When they'd described the man Soul had challenged he'd sat down and then when they confirmed his name he'd quietly held his face in his hands.

Blackstar was beside himself. Soul hadn't been settled a full day and he'd already made a powerful foe, who Star could only hope would forgive Soul's misdemeanour. Then he'd started getting angry, with Soul, with himself – he was supposed to be a host, supposed to keep him out of trouble. That was the main fuel that fired his current speech. Star was never frequently angry, his job having trained him into the silence of shadows, but Soul's arrival and now this was too great a change in emotion for him to handle.

Star stopped shouting, not that it was having any effect on Soul, who stood their staring through Star, as if he would prefer to examine the wall directly behind his head.

"Soul" Star's voice cracked, the word came out hoarsely. Soul's eyes flicked quickly to Star's face, finally looking him in the eye - only to be shown the storm of fear, worry and upset that thronged inside of Star.

Blackstar stepped into Soul, wrapping his arms around him. Soul glanced at Maka, indicating with a discrete nod and a glance that she should leave them.

Star's arms wrapped more tightly around Soul, in doing so he was attempting to stop himself from breaking down. Star was drained, so drained from the past few days. Things that Soul was not privy to had been happening, assignments that would chill a kind heart had been forced onto him and once loyal friends were now suspects.

But again, Soul knew none of that, and couldn't really explain why he was now being crushed by the force of which Star was holding Soul.

Soul could feel him start to shake, at each shudder his grip tightened then loosened slightly and Soul was sincerely concerned that he would have to console a teary Blackstar.

Soul's hand gently ran up the centre of Star's back, gently massaging up the muscle on either side of his spine, and over his upper back. The only sound was the rubbing of his hand on Star's clothes. It didn't take too much longer for Star to calm down and step back, at which Soul held him by the shoulders and sternly spoke to him.

"Star, we've known each other long enough to be certain that I will survive this, with or without help." He had tilted his head much the way a father would speak to their child, to convey every ounce of seriousness available.

Star smiled at that, and laughed shortly, breathily. Soul involuntarily mimicked his smile, glad to know the danger had passed.

"It's funny, because whenever you've told me that, you've always had your swords… speaking of which – where are they?"

"They may or may not have been stolen, and by may or may not, I mean they have. By the Shinigami. So yea, small problem."

Star's face fell in disbelief. "You're kidding me. Right?"

Soul nonchalantly shook his head. "Sorry buddy."

"Please tell me that you aren't intending to fight him bare-handed…"

"Well, I didn't really think that far ahead Star, you don't happen to have something I can borrow?"

"Fuuuuck Soul." He drew out a lengthy, croaky swear before laughing again. "Only you can give so little a shit."

"What can I say?" Soul winked in return.

"Um, maybe I can let you into the armoury, lend you a weapon for the time being… but it means you'd have to join The Service…" Star was brainstorming, the cogs turning cleanly in his head as he waited for Soul to respond.

"Well, I do need a job…" Soul spoke in affirmation.

"It's settled then, I'll draw up the papers."

"Oh that reminds me, what was in the envelope that Shinigami gave you earlier?"

Soul had by this time dropped his arms and they now spoke sitting across from each other. Maka dutifully awaited them in the hall outside, and standing under the disguised air vent she was beginning to fear a chill.

"Beats me." Star found the envelope resting on the corner of the mantelpiece.

He gently picked it up as it tilted out over his hand; there was a small bulge that distorted the thick paper envelope.

As his finger glided carefully over the top edge of the package, Soul had retrieved a small knife from the nearby table. The small blade glinted in the ruby light, its sheen clear and true as its smile sliced its hapless prey open.

Returning the blade to Soul, Blackstar pulled out the parchment, which to its bottom was pinned a silver hawk. Upon seeing it Star's face lit up like a crowning ceremony.

He hadn't read further than the introductory line

'_To a most valued serviceman, Blackstar, we present this offer of promotion for consistent and flawless'_

before carefully removing the pin from its position and showing it to Soul, who politely smiled not having a clue what it meant.

After briefly showing it to Soul, he looked at it again himself with the apprehension that one has when entering any new position.

"Unbelievable" Star breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

In the ensuing quiet, he could have sworn he heard the cry of a hawk and that the intricately engraved feathers rustled in his slightly quivering hands.

Remembering that his friend was without a weapon, Star shook off the distraction of glee he felt at his promotion in order to tell Soul and Maka that they were going to find something suitable to fight Death the Kid, so they should come along quickly.

Leading them down the entrance corridor, star pulled down a panel of wood that ran along the wall looking as though it was to hide the scars of a removed door. Beneath this panel was a thick white rope which he proceeded to pull down.

The entire thing must have been on a pulley system for as he pulled the rope disappeared back into the wall, and the ceiling further down the hall began to lower without a sound and without a hitch.

Hidden and attached to the top of the now lowered ceiling were a short set of stairs, a smooth wood without varnish or grooves.

Briskly walking up these, they found the light rapidly disappearing and though Star was waiting at the top for them, they still were slightly unnerved, the darkness making slimy, black memories resurface.

As Maka took the last step into the small tunnel, Blackstar began to hoist the stairway back up, sealing the lit world away.

It was a pitch, all-encompassing black that numbed the senses and filled the ears. It was so dark that the only way you knew you were blinking was from raising your hands to your face.

It seemed to have a similar effect on Blackstar too, as he spoke quietly, muffled almost.

"Stay together, there are turns and junctions – if you become separated you could easily lose yourself. Hold on to each other, and whatever you do don't let go."

The soft click of Blackstar's heels began to echo, and hinted at the size and shape of the passageway. It was squared, and small, Soul could feel his hair scraping the ceiling, and were he to stretch his arms wide he reckoned that he could touch the sides.

Soul reached out to hold onto Star's shoulders, but his hand grasped an altogether slimmer body, a startled squeak confirmed who it was.

"You alright back there?" Stars voice came out from the dark ahead of them.

"Yea we're cool" Soul replied, "Maka's holding onto you right?"

"I should hope so" Star laughingly joked. He tapped her hand and asked "Maka?"

"Mhmm!" She confirmed as his fingertips touched the back of her hand.

"Fewf! Had me worried for a second." He continued to jest.

Not long after their blind journey had begun they felt a distinct drop of the path they walked, and the current of air blowing against them increased in flow and lowered in temperature. The breeze was a permanent exhalation from deep within the hill that Death City stood upon, and provided the cooling for everyone's homes.

The deeper they went, the heavier the walls seemed to press against them, though this was just a trick of the mind.

Suddenly, and out of nowhere a chilling whimper echoed down. Blackstar stopped abruptly, causing the other two to bump into him quite unceremoniously.

"Shh." Blackstar hushed them quietly, his command more like a heavy breath than an order.

The whimper came again, and they couldn't tell its position. Chills went through Maka, horrid things that made her shake on the inside, and a quiet nausea of worry gently shook her stomach. The goose pimples would have been a visible indicator of the nerves she felt, were it possible to see them.

Contrarily, Soul was getting goose pimples from the cool air, and was gently tensing his back and shoulders to initiate the pools of trembles that spilled over his skin quite pleasurably.

Blackstar began to whistle, long, slow notes that followed each other down the tunnels. The notes were low and the reverberations were humming about them.

( youtube /watch?v=GpOpdrcwNPI)

Mystified, enchanted, they stood still as Blackstar continued to whistle, and the whimpers that had once been frequent haunting sounds became silent. He paused once his song was done, before offering an explanation.

His voice was hoarse, scratching as it came out.

"He was a new enlistment, young no doubt. They put you down here with food and water for 5 days and if you haven't given in then they keep you. Break down, lose your mind – they throw you out. Sometimes those who find an exit within a day are instantly promoted, and then there are those who relish the dark."

Star paused to listen again, there wasn't a sound and he began to walk forward again, pulling his small train behind him.

"They put you down here in groups, so as you can find each other, but there have been cases – murders once happened – so now they have those who know the tunnels follow close behind. I once was a Watcher, you have to be silent you see. The senses, they adapt, sight no longer is important so your hearing becomes a lifeline. A single scuff on my half would have given me away to the one I was watching, or at least forced upon him a state of paranoia. They had just introduced the Watchers when I started here."

They heard Star gesture around him.

"And that's the song he, or she, I never found out, whistled to me when I was at my end."

He gulped as he told a story he didn't often lay open. "Without it I don't think I could have made it, not unscathed… So I hope that whoever that Private was, they're okay."

"I hope they're okay…"Blackstar repeated himself thickly and unevenly – his voice barely audible.

They had walked some distance, though it hadn't felt like it as Star had been speaking. The numerous twists, turns, and junctions through which they'd walked had been countless – try as Soul might to keep a memory of the number whilst paying attention to Star.

"There'll be a door here any moment now." Star stated with confidence – and after a few more steps they hit what seemed like a dead end.

Blackstar slid a small object from within his jacket into the wall, the sound of several locks unlatching came through.

"I can hear it unlocking!" She whispered excitedly.

"Well, the speed you adapted to down here is amazing; it usually takes the recruits a couple days." Star praised her kindly. Soul remain tight-lipped, not having heard them himself, but unwilling to admit it in her presence.

The door now open, was a close fit, and they felt the close grip of the frame scrape past them as they moved into the space.

A match roared angrily into life, its yell dying quickly as the match head burned down and the fiery stick coaxed the wick of a lamp into life and the blinding illumination no longer having the debilitating and almost painful effect upon their wholly dilated pupils.

Now readjusted to the low but sufficient light, they took in the maliciously glinting surroundings.

"Uhhh Star…What is this?" Soul asked hesitantly.

"A small armoury, you should be able to find something you like."

From the floors to the ceiling were the walls lined with weapons, maces swords and spears tightly stacked upon each other on ordered racks. From the ceiling hung chains and flayed whips, and on small shelving units in the centre were small daggers, short-swords, and metal gloves, along with knuckledusters and shurikens.

"Small?" Maka wondered what the actual armouries in the citadel would look like.

"Yup, this is a stash for our squad, there're loads all around but they're hidden and have unique and closely guarded keys. I'm pretty sure though we've got the best though – we had a great thief." He winked at them.

Soul decided not to pick up on his use of the past tense, and purposely dropped one of the weapons he had been fondling.

The crash in the confined space was deafening, and the echo resonated for longer than usual, leaving an uncomfortable whine in their ears.

"Smooth Soul. Smooth." Star mocked.

"Yea yea" Soul nonchalantly dismissed him. Replacing the weapon to its hold, he browsed the rest of the room, settling on a sword that looked like it was torn from the bowels of the earth. Its bite was ragged and ripped, and the body of metal cleaved and rent the air with a bass and demonic purr.

The handle in Soul's hand ended in a teardrop, a bronzed metal that had veins indented over it that pulsed with Soul's heart.

A deep desire to swing this sword into flesh built in his stomach, and he felt the sword's own soul begin to influence his.

"This one. I want this one Star." Soul quietly uttered.

He had found it in the bottommost rung of wall, almost hidden by those above it.

"Trust you to find that amongst all the weapons here the most appealing…" Star responded subdued.

"That was a confiscation, taken from one of the northern warlords – supposed to be a perk of the job, taking loot without having to disclaim it. That's how our units work – don't ask don't tell. Thing is, that blade isn't normal Sou-"

"I know" Soul interrupted him "I'll be fine"

With pursed lips, Star bit his tongue and nodded reluctantly before turning to Maka "Found anything you like?"

She nodded, as she too had been rummaging whilst Star and Soul had been talking.

Holding up a thin, needle-like sword she raised her eyebrows doubtfully, fully prepared to be told to return it to its rack.

"Of course" Blackstar spoke with nothing short of sarcasm "Of course you pick that of them all."

"Why? What's wrong?" Maka worriedly began to replace the weapon.

"No, no ,it's fine, take it. Don't cut yourself – that's a poisoned blade, called Agave Aconitum – it can stop the heart, just touching it will cause numbness and lowered blood pressure as well as terrible blistering that lasts several weeks." He spoke defeatedly, "I think you two must have taken some of the most dangerous weapons here."

"Sheathe your weapons, Maka take care especially" Blackstar warned, as they left the room and he doused the light with a short puff of breath.

"I'll need to practise Star, I haven't fought for a while…"Soul said to Blackstar.

"I think I should make quite the opponent, it'll be just like old times." He reminisced contentedly.

"Just like old times." Soul repeated, as they journeyed on in the black.


	33. Chapter 33: Running towards death

A/N: Hi to magic-pearl, schyra and Demon-Fox-Girl23!

Rough month. Anyways, here it goes. (non-proofed btw)

* * *

_-Chapter 33-_

Running towards death

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White clangs split across the small stadium, bright lights of sound causing flickers of squinting in the crowd before they instantly widened their eyes, not wanting to miss the spectacle occurring for even a second.

Soul and Star were practising in a building designed to amplify the sounds of the actors, but currently the cheering crowd were much more entertained, and slightly deafened, by these two than by any comic or performance, and were having their ears pierced with metallic crashes that bit at their senses; neither of the fighters were holding back.

Sweat dripped from Blackstar's eyebrow, stinging his eye and causing him to wink. Seeing an opportunity Soul swung his sword that seared the air as it came across to collide with Star's blind parry with an ear-ringing clang.

"Close, but easy" Star chided, teasing Soul with a cheeky smile "You're getting old and forgetful if you think I need my eyes that much."

"Oh? But you know what they say – with age comes wisdom" Soul sprinted forward again to Star who reflexively hunched down and brought his sword up to defend a predicted chop. Blinding glitters of light raced over the crowd as the sun's hot grin was flashed over them. Soul's attack never came and the weight of his sword over-balanced BlackStar's stance as Soul slid across to one side and with the flat of his longer, heavier blade smacked Blackstar on the arse with a resounding clap.

Maka's lilting laugh that she covered with a delicate hand joined but was drowned by the roars of laughter that swelled and ballooned from the crowd as Star's face rushed with blood.

"You asshole!" he laughingly crowed as he twisted lithely around with a burning buttock and tripped Soul with the tip of his blade before he could get away.

Using his left hand he held Soul's ankle down and simultaneously propelled himself forward over his friend's back to straddle him in an instant. The audience both heard and saw Star's bodyweight force the air from Soul's chest as a cloud of dust and sand exploded in a blaze from his face with a fiery orange puff.

His longer sword now relatively useless in his position, and Star's own blade pressed against the beating veins in his neck, he had no choice but to concede the obvious defeat.

Soul rolled underneath Star and faced his friend, who was now sitting lightly upon Soul's chest, giving him a grin that a shark would envy. Soul bit his tongue and kept grinning at his embarrassed friend before shouting aloud for the audience to hear: "How's your arse?!" Before laughing so hard he began to choke on his own breath.

Star bit his bottom lip in mock-frustration while shaking his head. Pushing off from him he ignored the jibe and instead replied with: "Yea yea you get one hit on me and you think you're all that, you forget you lost. Were you even taking me seriously?"

Star was out of uniform and as such wasn't being treated much differently by the audience compared with Soul. The colour black was not only preciously expensive, but was a colour reserved by the military. The prohibition was not without reason, black in the night blends well enough to give its owner a sense of anonymity, and the courage to commit a crime. Amongst the population of Death City was the strong belief that a type of invisibility was granted those that used the material, and thus the soldiers wearing it believed to be almost omnipresent.

But this superstition, though false, came from the sheer prowess of the Nightwings who prowled the alleys with a ruthless efficiency. Rumour had it during the days that Death City was still being founded, they would kill any criminal found after dark – and the number of bodies left apparently asleep in the back alleys served a powerful reminder. Now these bodies are replaced by statues, and the strict practice is largely honorary, though the legislature has never been amended.

They had both thought it a good option to not dirty clothes unnecessarily and so were fighting in light grey-cloth shorts that stopped short of the knees and with bare torsos.

Soul's smile shrunk a bit before he made eye-contact with Star after he passed the query. Several seconds passed before Soul shoved Star from his chest and stretched out, making a flamboyant and unnecessarily grandiloquent bow to the seating area. His forehead even went so low as to brush ground and he gave the audience one more grin as they wooped and hollered, filling his ears with their voices, filling his mind and quashing the slight worry that had been birthed from his defeat with Star.

He attempted to rationalise it, he had been starved, beaten and tortured for months before only having a brief rest, an on top of all that was the inability to train in the meantime…

_Completely justified, I should have expected to lose. This is only training after all._

_**Yes. Only training. Keep telling yourself that YOU PIECE OF SHIT! How the fuck do YOU lose to Blackstar?! You are worthless. To be kept inside of you is a constant hell for me you know? **_

Soul offered no defence, strolling with his mask of a hundred smiles off of the stage and into the back of the theatre, plunging himself into blindness as his eyes readjusted. His sword dragged beside him, its grating edge cutting scars into the ground.

_**Do you know how pathetic it is to listen to your mewling, childish, self-pitying thoughts day in day out?  
I'm surprised I haven't lost my own goddamned mind.  
This is precisely your fault; you brought this on yourself Mr I-Want-To-Be-My-Own-Man.  
You are an extension of me. You need me to keep you strong, I am your foundations, I am your alpha and omega. Without me you would have stayed as that man's butler – stayed that lowly rank and probably died a grunt in some non-important skirmish. **_

Soul's ruby eyes lost their lustre, the once childish flames of enjoyment lost to the imp inside, quenched and crushed.

Maka had been standing to the side of the pitch, and had seen his eyes change their glint; her heart went out to him at times like this. She was finally starting to see through his masks, through the holes in his normally glinting and polished armour.

She knew he would probably tell her nothing of what went on inside, her white knight that had arrived, stayed by her, and then saved her when he needn't have. She wondered who he was, wondered whether he even knew the answer to that.

Pulling herself from her thoughts she quickly walked to Star who was still entertaining the crowd and currently under bombardment of a rainbow of paper roses.

She hooked her arm through his and pulled him away, following Soul's footsteps into the back of the unoccupied building.

The sharp grinding sound led them to where Soul sat in a half-light, forcing a whetstone over his blade with force enough to release sparks on occasion. He had been there long enough for the cutting edge to gather a shine sharp enough amplify the light that hit it from the dim surroundings.

"Soul? Y'alright mate?" BlackStar timidly asked, unsure whether Soul was just upset or if it was something more.

Nothingness spoke loudly in response, its voice rhythmically punctuated by long, smooth grates of the whetstone.

The stone slipped from his hand, and Maka whose eyes had been following the motion, gasped as his hand continued its motion, slicing itself on the blades sharp tooth. The slit that now ran up his arm as he had apparently not noticed, began to throb with blood flowing slowly from the long incision.

His arm stopped moving, but kept itself on the blade as an enduring inhalation confirmed he felt it.

He exhaled serenely, packaging whatever emotion and agony he must surely feel into that breath. His head turned, the mop of white hair listlessly swaying with a short lag, before covering his eyes as the momentum carried it forward.

Peeling his arm off the reddened blade, Maka could imagine the suction of the blade to his flesh, the small trench almost holding itself to the cutting edge with a thanatotic desire, as the air brightened the blood from its crimson to an almost artificial saturation of colour.

She walked over to him, with a detached feeling – like she wasn't in control of her actions, that this was just a dream. Applying pressure to the wound and tying the nearby shirt over the wound, she attempted to look at his face.

He turned away from her, his face hidden by shadow. Silently she sighed to herself, her heart reached out to him.

"What happened Soul?" She gently asked, her voice reminiscent of the mouse in their cell.

It took him several seconds to draw his answer "An accident, thanks for the help."

_I think._

His voice was unbelievably steady considering what had just happened.

Contrarily his heart was pounding, threatening to choke him with its ferocity.

An undetected smile once more tore sneeringly across an imp's hideous face, the lips tearing apart like dough.

They left through the back of the amphitheatre, having dressed and hidden Soul's injury from bored eyes.

It wasn't long before they'd returned to Star's home, suggesting Maka take the first shower in such a way that would make it rude to refuse, he turned to Soul after her departure.

"Maka may have missed it, but I have better eyes. Soul, it wasn't an accident was it? Not really." He probed, making it clear his insinuations.

"What are you talking about?" Soul looked to him with a placid smile that fit too comfortably on his face.

"You didn't slip by accident, you would have sharpened a sword too many times by now to do something so rookie."

"Accidents happen Blackstar, after all I haven't touched a sword for months." Soul rebuffed, hoping his clear reasoning would cease his line of questioning.

"You seem to forget I've sharpened swords too Soul, you and I both know that you don't forget – especially with a blade as dangerous as that."

"Well I forgot. It happens Star, why are you acting so strangely?" Soul almost sounded annoyed.

Star clenched his jaw, the muscles bulging periodically as he systematically bit his teeth.

"It doesn't help Soul. Just tell me what's the matter. Talk to me Soul, I'm still here for you, just as I always have been."

"Have you always been there Star? Have you really always fucking been there?! Where were you when I was in some maniac's fucking lab? Where were you when I was tortured to the edge of death only to be brought back so he could do it again? Where were you when I almost killed that girl?!" He jabbed towards the distant hiss of a shower.

Star looked to the floor, he couldn't face Soul, couldn't match the ire that burnt in those orbs. His dark eyes wouldn't be able to absorb the venting flames of emotion that so conflicted his icy tone.

This was an entirely different side to Soul, one that Star had rarely seen compared to the controlled and calculating man he had left behind, compared to the rumours he had picked up about his success, compared to the charming smile and mystifying eyes that looked from each bulletin of his proficiency as a tactician, general and commander.

The hiss of water silenced the background noise; Soul rubbed his face of dust and walked towards the bathroom. The conversation was over it seemed.

Maka had a beautiful glow as she left the bathroom wrapped in a tall towel; it held itself white and just above her chest, revealing collarbones that framed her chest with carved ivory edges. They enticed the viewer, they drew fingers close to run along them, glide along their surface.

Now, they happened to pull Soul's eyes to them as she passed him by, leashing them to her chest and this she would have noticed had she been looking – but her habit of watching the floor meant she didn't.

_Less than a week to the fight. Shit._

_**Don't worry Soul, I'll be there for you. As I always am. **_


	34. Chapter 34: Under sunset

_-Chapter 34-_

Under sunset.

* * *

**Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. **

**FOR FUCK'S SAKE - WAKE UP YOU DIPSHIT!**

This was the manner that Soul had been roused each morning, and each time the Imp had sounded loud enough to wake the house with the volume achieved only possible in the mind.

Training had also provided a relatively entertaining opportunity for the Imp, who had seized the chance to practise a running commentary that consisted of identifying flaw after flaw after flaw in a biting, snide voice that didn't hit through Soul's armour because it was already inside his armour like a poison. The criticisms bounced around inside him, each ricochet opening a new cut as they sliced his insides. The black thread that had earlier snapped from his heart began to stitch itself back together, thin strings slowly winding themselves back together like vines.

**You're a sloth.**

Soul hadn't blocked in time.

**You're stupid, that was stupid, that too. **

Soul wasn't outmanoeuvring Star's tactics.

**He's going to attack you from your left – what did I say? **

Soul wasn't reading his opponent.

**What are you even doing? Were you even in the military? Do you even know how to use a sword?**

Soul had fumbled the hilt after hours of practice under a beating sun.

**You aren't strong enough.**

He was panting from exertion.

**Weak.**

**Weak.**

**Weak.**

Each insult washed over him in a wave that slammed him against an invisible wall, that bruised and stung. He could feel himself slipping back into the numbness that he'd known for so long and had finally begun to get out of.

The day of the fight was fast approaching, and word was going around the city enough that even Maka had caught wind of it after buying groceries, accompanied of course by BlackStar.

*The Citadel*

In the Citadel that sat like a bloated cherry atop the city, lay a coliseum that was grand in every sense. The statues of a hundred leaders looked down with dead faces around the building from perches high and mighty, their cold, marble frowns assuming and inherently disapproving.

Their unblinking, empty eyes and stern expressions, their crowns and wreaths, they were all guardians of this structure. Columns of stone rose like mountains from the ground, supporting the huge building that defied logical building as it fell out over and above you, shading a large area; and inside the great bowl-like building was an arena of pale pink sand - whether from earlier displays or for artificial effect you could not tell.

And just like the city were the tiers of seats ordered, but inverted. Now the richest sat closest to the fray and muck, the most powerful in the greatest danger of being caught by a stray arrow. The threat was real, but the reward much too great for cause to avoid.

Death the Kid had trained each day since the challenge too, a public defeat would be unacceptable, and result in decreased belief in their family. Soul, though he needn't be killed, must be crushed.

*The day*

**Are you ready Soul? You better be ready. We are going to lose, but if you don't give him one hell of a run then you don't deserve a word of kindness. Not to mention BlackStar expects as much from you though we know he would never say that, and then there's Maka - why do you think she still hangs around? She's free now you know, she doesn't need you and I doubt she wants you either. Prove to us that we are worth your time.**

The day was hot and the sun growled with a mane of fiery tendrils, boasting a massive presence in an empty blue sky.

Approaching the citadel the crowds had already gathered, and their din carried persistently down into the creaking, silent city below. Everyone it seemed had made their way to the spectacle - an albino foreigner challenging the Leader's son was bound to make headlines and the radio had been statically squawking about it all week.

The familiar protest from the stomach as blood began to be stripped from the inner organs and sent to the skeletal muscles caused the slight nausea that little bothered Soul. He walked silently, shoulders pushed back, the click of hard soles against the stones as his feet carried him up the baking Capitoline hill.

His lips were pursed and his eyes were matching the burning sunset that caused the stone to appear almost molten.

It was under these flames that they stopped and turned back to face the blazing inferno that was nearing its final journey to the horizon. From the glowing sphere came the slow red light that hadn't the energy to light a thing properly as it diffused into the sparse clouds, though the hot tongues of light flowed around them all. They turned back to their long shadows that flew out ahead of them, and walked once up the paved highway.

A terse silence had settled upon them and only the clicking of their heels could be heard rattling sharply against the empty buildings and the sound of thousands of excited voice began to wash over them as the sound of waves on a beach, indistinguishable as individual voices.

The brightly coloured guard shouted for them, his bronze buttons burning against his royal red outfit. Leading the way they watched his petticoat tail bounce against the back of his legs as the shining black boots stamped with force upon the hard stones beneath.

The sound of the crowds was deafening but still above the din could the guard's footsteps be heard. He led them down beneath the seating into an eerie silence before taking them to the main arena entrance where they were to wait - albeit not for long.

A crystal voice called for silence before Shinigami began to speak, and though he wasn't shouting his voice seemed to travel to your ears with no drop in volume, no decrease in power.

Distance was no object to him as he began his speech:

"Welcome. Welcome. My dear citizens, my love for you all knows no bounds, of that I am certain you are aware. It is for you that I work so unwaveringly in far off lands, and that you forgive me for my absence I am humbly grateful"

He bowed low to his audience, his perch in the stands allowing all to see him. He paused for the applause to reduce once more.

"I see the stresses of life bearing down on you, yet you do not complain, I see the worries in the news, yet you do not complain, and I see the fear in your eyes of the southern empire that expands, yet you do not complain. The powers that be have graced me truly in giving this position to me, and it is in thanks to you, the deities, and those unseen that I hold these games for. My own son has been challenged by a newcomer, and no mere peasant either, I assure you this is to be an entertaining, if not historic battle. Eat well, drink much, and enjoy life to its fullest - for it is short and fleeting; like the rains here!"

The crowd roared with laughter, polite or genuine one could not tell.

"Now, my friends…"

He paused to build suspense, the crowd waited with bated breath and their hearts beat in their throats.

"Let the games… BEGIN!"

He stood for a short time longer in his pitch black dress that still did not warm no matter the strength of the sun, basking in the radiated love of his people.

As he sat, Death the Kid strode powerfully onto the pitch, the sound of sand crunching beneath his feet drowned by the new roars of the crowds as they bayed like dogs for the fight to start.

BlackStar placed a hand on Soul's shoulder, his hand gripping over the top as Maka gently held his arm. This wasn't the time for words and the guard pulled open the door to allow Soul to stride through the large entrance.

The white hair shone like ice as Soul matched the magnanimity of Death the Kid's entrance - and the crowd gave him just as warm a welcome as they recognised the inherent confidence that great ability gives.

They cheered not for love, nor for support of Soul; rather for the entertainment value they knew this foreigner was to give.

This was not to be a short battle, nor an easy one.

* * *

A/N: I am still working on this, it's just my exams are in less than two months so I really have very little time that I can afford. Once my exams are over and I get into uni you can probably expect slightly more regular updates :P


	35. Chapter 35: Battle Royale

_-Chapter 35-_

Battle Royale

* * *

Kid stood ten paces away from Soul, and mouthed for him to wait. The applause died down and the golden ceremonial bugles sounded in three long peals before fading into silence.

Soul frowned with confusion, new to the situation he was forced to trust Kid's honour.

A throbbing chant grew from the crowd as they spoke their anthem.

_On and on the cities groaned  
looking forward without a sound,  
fighting with sword and blistering wounds  
singing a chant without a tune_

_On and on 'till Death arrived  
and wiped the pastures bare,  
The deserts watered with blood of man  
now flowered under his stern hand._

_Up and up the fresh stone rose  
in walls and towers glittering gold,  
and no man would feel the need to hide  
or drown in ale without his pride._

_Shinigami and his Death city!  
We drink not to us but to thee,  
without your guidance and your heart,  
this city would have become but nought._

_Dulce et decorum est, pro patria mori.  
Great leader, we offer our lives for thee._

Shinigami stood and bowed humbly three times to the unmoving mass of flesh, and silence continued its oppressive echo.

A lone blast of a bugle broke the silence, and heralded the entrance of a pompous and colourful man whose shrill voice screeched the battle to be "Until nightfall or first blood". He was wearing a ballooning hat that created a black shadow over his face and distorted his shadow.

Death the Kid wielded two swords, one longer than the other. They didn't look particularly unique, none of the glamour that one would expect from someone as high up as he was. There was nothing scrawled onto the sword, nothing in excess.

_That's the trick. Don't misjudge him. Those swords are… _Soul thought

…_**perfect.**_ The Imp cut in.

_**Listen Soul, you do not lose. Understood? Keep him at a distance, watch for those swords, keep your back to the light – the sunset might blind you.**_

Soul's sword growled amongst the sand as it rose from the small pit it had dug in the ground, grains of dirty sand dropped from the gleaming metal and the point viciously looked into Kid's eyes.

If Kid recognised the sword he made no acknowledgement, though that's a lie – a smug look of satisfaction held his face as the match began. Soul could only wonder what had made Kid feel that way.

Soul stared at Kid coldly, emotionless. His red eyes looked empty, a hearth not yet lit as Soul focussed on re-building a mask covered with dust. His emotions started dropping back from under the surface where they'd lain of late, and began an infinite fall into limbo.

**Good **The Imp breathed heavily, stringing the vowels together in a long, gargling sound. **You're remembering.**

There was no bite in its voice as it began to be infected like the audience with the suspense of the fight soon to begin.

On an unspoken cue Kid dashed forward into Soul, and twisted behind his heels as vortexes picked them up before collapsing into small heaps. Soul's feet buried themselves into the arena as his long sword blocked a heavy double blow from Kid, the crowd erupted as the deafening sound travelled around the arena, slowly being absorbed into the writhing audience.

**Distaannccee...** The Imp chastised like a teacher who'd corrected the same mistake a hundred times.

The teeth of Soul's sword bit into Kid's blades and gripped them as Soul swung Kid down into the ground.

A crowd-pleasing move as the spectators saw Soul win the first of what was to be many engagements.

Soul jumped back, being too cautious to press the advantage. His feet left trenches in the soft ground as the gritty sand piled up behind his heels.

Kid's eyes glinted with golden fury that the wrath of the heavens couldn't match. He sprung up and you could see the dust stains covering select patches of his dark outfit. He looked like his father.

Soul was the first opponent Kid had fought who was good enough to concern him, and the worry of so many eyes nagged at him further. Kid had to win the crowd back; otherwise father would not be pleased.

With this anger bubbling over into his energies Kid's attacks came with all the more haste and all the more fury. This was a novel experience for the crowd, having never seen Kid fight at even near full capacity. Many of the matches held in the arena were staged and though entertaining, offered no real thrill.

Sweat was now pouring down the sides of their faces, giving a glinting, glassy edge to their jaws as the light faded further from the sky.

Shinigami rose and called a halt to the fight.

"This fight will not stop at Sunset, it is to blood, or death. Illuminate the arena men, this is to be recorded for the tomes."

Night was nearly fallen, and the empty sky was pouring chilly air down onto them.

The break was direly needed as both warriors panted with locked eyes. Had they broken their gaze they would have watched torches flicker into existence amongst the crowd to counter the chill as smoke spiralled up from them.

The stars blinked against the velvety purpling sky before the burning light of the bonfires blocked them out as the fires sprung to life around the arena with huge crackles and the occasional bursting of damp wood.

Soul's and Kid's shadows flickered in the stance, morphing and tearing their shape unpredictably as they stood hunched over. Large silvered plates cranked slowly upwards behind the bonfires as their technicians angled the light downwards; the cumulative effect put them in a spotlight without blinding them. The small seats behind these large discs held room for one operator, as they would need to rotate the discs in order to keep the two fighters well lit.

Once the arena was prepared, Shinigami rose and restarted the fight with a silent drop of his hand. Trumpets sounded in cheery melody and the superfluous workers retreated from the arena like mice from an eagle.

As their blades locked and spat light the ripping shadows were obliterated before instantly reappearing with all their earlier vigour. The dance was no longer between two, but four, as their silhouetted brothers stretched along the floor and fought just as fiercely. Looking closely one could have sworn they weren't matching the movements of their owners, but maybe that was just the light playing tricks.

Bawling cheers screamed out of the crowd, with the people becoming increasingly drunk as the evening wore on. Their breaths shortened more quickly now as their muscles strained, Soul felt the scar along his chest tighten and relax with each breath he took.

Kid grinned and in a perfectly executed twist knocked the long sword aside from Soul and aimed to plunge his second into Soul's throat.

_**Drop!**_

A panicked yelp came from the Imp as Soul allowed his legs to buckle and felt the blade tear through his hair, yanking on the roots in a strip along the middle.

The Imp had been mysteriously silent during the battle; neither insults nor pointers had come from the cretin until now.

Fire burned in his lungs as his muscle memory began to shake under the strain of having to respond so often quickly. Kid was wearing him down and though not completely swapped, one could see after numerous engagements that the tables were turning on Soul.

Kid was winning the crowd back as he attacked repeatedly, sometimes not even attempting to bypass Soul's defence, but simply attacked the block with the intent to weaken his arms. It was working; Soul's arms felt the sword resting more leaden in his hands.

His breathing was fast and his throat had a dry, cold taste as he feared to swallow – worried that to do so would result in a gagging cough.

Kid grinned shortly again before quickly jogging backwards away from Soul, forcing him to rest. A smart move, now every single muscle in Soul's body had the opportunity to send impulses into his brain saying how exhausted they were, to report the masses of lactic acid that had built up.

Kid's grin turned markedly malicious as he lowered his head and returned to a crouch.

_**My turn Soul.**_Soul was too exhausted to reply as the Imp steamrollered over his self-control.

A dark tinge infected his skin, and his eyes burnt with purple fire as he met Kid's eyes. He saw the crouch for what it was – a jump attack – and waited pretending to be exhausted still.

Kid rushed forward and sprung up, intending to drive both swords into his torso besides his neck. As he jumped Soul dashed forward underneath him with renewed vigour, a look of surprise flitted onto Kid's face has he struggled to twist mid-air, blocking the attack that would have chopped into his spine.

His expression changed as he couldn't fathom where Soul's energy was coming from, nor the new skill he appeared to have.

The Imp held onto his sword tightly, the blade feeding a thirst of death, the energy flowing out of the metal and into him.

Noticing the sword's crimson tinge, Kid began to wrap his own wavelength thinly around his dual swords; they weren't supposed to use soul energy during these fights due to the huge risk of collateral damage. Kid could not afford to lose.

The Imp struck again, aiming low along the kidneys he too was intending to end the fight with a death.

Exchanging blows once more to the delight of the audience, the sizzling shreds of energy that flew from the contact points entranced the people, the energy changing colour as it was freed from the owner.

Kid realised he wouldn't be able to prolong this battle and putting the remains of his energy into speeding up his movements he went for first blood, knowing he was no longer able to kill Soul.

The Imp had no similar idea, contrarily it was relishing the control it had again and with each strike of his sword he would strip Kid of some energy. The imp was just slashing and smashing for fun.

Kid's attack was predicted, a triple strike to the Imp's right side was blocked quickly, the attacks changed side and design, sometimes they were piercing and other times they were slicing – the Imp was forced to react and constantly defend by twisting and rotating on a dime as Kid counter-attacked with violent and precise aggression.

The Imp couldn't have predicted that Kid would release one of his swords, and his smaller wazakashi blade sliced along Soul's temple.

The sharp blade only skimmed Soul's head but already he could feel blood oozing out.

Time froze.

Kid slowly backed away with his remaining sword, now holding it with two hands.

"The fight is over, Evans." Kid cautiously concluded.

_**No. That didn't happen. He didn't... **_

_He did. Hey, we knew this was going to happen. _Soul tried to console the Imp, trying to limit the internal damage it would wreak when they were alone.

**That was if you fought alone Soul. You lose, not me. I don't lose. I never lose.**

_Evidently you do..._ Soul couldn't help but let the sarcastic comment slip out, a smirk on his face and a small laugh.

The glare that the Imp gave him was only an indicator of the wrath he would receive. **I'll see you tonight, bitch.**

Relinquishing its hold on Soul, it strode into darkness. Soul looked up, raising a hand to his face and staring at the blood smeared across it.

He dropped to a knee and Kid stood away as Shinigami stood and began the applause that rose like a wave around the stadium as whoops, wolf-whistles, and ululations came from a very impressed crowd.

"Tonight, there has been no loser, for this fight was matched between two incredible champions for you, my children, and for that we should be thankful. Never before has this arena been so packed, nor you so entertained. In recognition, this evening is to become a tradition, every year on this night, there is to be a fight between the two greatest fighters in the land!" Shinigami proclaimed over the crowd, whose cheering was only further magnified. The sound was truly deafening as the cacophony rose to new heights.


	36. Chapter 36: Rose's Brass and Bronze

_-Chapter 36-_

Rose's Brass and Bronze

* * *

_Death's city belies its name  
Puts all others to grave shame,  
None so great as we are now  
But this __not __reached without sweat on brow,  
__Work hard, work long  
__Give your life unto this song,  
__For when you're old and dead  
__This city will walk on ahead,  
Beneath its heel we all shall rest  
But only at Death's sincere behest._

Blackstar's lips moved quietly as soft sounds treaded through the small gap of his lips, the radio was louder than he as his eyes gently closed. He was sad as the recording came to an end, knowing he would have to wait for another week before hearing the familiar voice that sanded away his worries. Many would be in the same position as him, sitting beside their radio listening to Sid's enigmatic voice. The Keeper of the City – He had been here since the beginning, and was one of the commanding families that had the ear of Shinigami, the benevolent leader.

Star had walked slightly ahead of Soul and Maka, and after persuading himself that they'd find their way back to him, had side-stepped into the back-alleys to return in time for the regular announcement. He didn't know why he cared so much, there was no reason to, bar the small ache of familiarity it placed in his chest each time he heard that gruff voice come over the static background.

Blackstar shut his eyes and leaned back into the wooden chair, his spine slotting between the small columns of wood that held the backrest. He was at his work desk, looking at the front door from over the pile of envelopes and papers he had to deal with. "Later, I'll do them later." He husked to himself, knowing that he'd regret it.

He watched the back of his eyes and felt himself being swallowed by sleep, the pools of black slowly approaching from the edges of his vision and blocking out that dark red that the hall lights burnt through. He had to be careful, had to keep his eyes very still, lest he scare the darkness away.

BAM BAM BAM

The door's metal knocker exploded with each impact of the hand that brought its metal ring down to the plate. The sounds went straight through Star's head, and agonisingly pulsed in his skull.

Covering his ears to hide from the echo he groaned, his mouth was dry and his lips had become parched.

_How long was I asleep for?_ The thought dodged each painful heartbeat that sent blood rushing around his brain much too loudly. "Coming" he groggily answered the door.

An absolutely knackered pair of bodies flopped inside, trekking dust with their footfalls. The sharp wake up hadn't put Star in the best of humours, so he snapped at them for making a mess before actually opening his eyes properly.

A head of white looked up at him with such physical exhaustion displayed that Star instantly regretted his tone.

"I'm sorry, just have a headache, what took you guys?" He tried to mend the situation as he closed the door. A pale arm was drooped around Soul's neck, its hand lightly holding onto his shoulder, pulling the material up in a small bunch.

Soul swallowed before rasping with a hopeless grin "One wrong turn, this bloody city I swear." A dusty laugh was attempted but faltered into coughs. Soul's patience was fine.

"We must have walked around this city twice, Maka got confused in the dark."

Looking at the limp body that Soul was supporting Blackstar's feelings of regret compounded, he hated himself for being so selfish as to leave his friends just to hear words that would be repeated later. What if something had happened?

Soul was tired, but still noticed Star's expression "Don't worry, we've got to learn our way around hear one way or the other" he attempted to console Star. It had the opposite effect, serving to compound the guilt Star was feeling as he read into it as saying "You shouldn't have left."

"Soul, I'm so sorry, I really am. I shouldn't have-" Star started to apologise again before being cut off by Soul.

"Dude, shut up and help me get Maka into a bed, are there any here? Can we even sleep here, you said something about this just being an office or?"

Star's face dropped as he remembered his tiny apartment was on the other side of town. A hand hid his face before traveling down his neck to rest loosely grasping at his collar.

Blackstar stepped around them, shutting the door while trying to figure out what he was to do with his friends. Soul and Maka were leaning against the wall, something that Blackstar had to stop himself from requesting they didn't. The wallpaper was textured and would be dented with their weight.

"My apartment is on the next side of town, you guys probably walked straight past it" Star laughed to dispel some embarrassment.

Soul, with a heavy breath, looked up in a way suggesting that it was not the time for jokes. The air conditioning was having a positive effect and as the wafts of air from the ceiling chilled them, it also woke them.

Maka brushed the hair from her face, and assured Star that they'd be fine to sleep wherever.

"It's not about being 'fine'" Blackstar exasperated, "I could cut your leg off and once cauterised and stitched, you would be 'fine'. It's about being comfortable."

Star knew that to sleep in the office would be sorely reprimanded, more than just a slap would follow.

"The lower districts!" He exclaimed; his relief evident on his face. "I know some people who you could definitely stay with, they owe me after all."

Star glanced at the grandfather clock that stood in the hallway. He'd slept for around an hour and a half and wanted to make amends for his poor conduct.

"Are you guys up for more walking?" Star joked as he opened a phone cupboard. Winding the machine to the familiar sound of grinding cogs Soul and Maka listened.

"Operator?"

"Taxi services please"

"Yes, that's the address"

"To the lower district, Rose avenue."

"What's that?"

"Oh yes, that's fine, enjoy your evening ma'am." Blackstar replaced the two phone pieces back into the cupboard, shutting the doors on the quickly retreating 'ding' the phone had made as the call finished.

"They won't be a moment; 5 minutes at most, can I get you a coffee?" He looked at both of them and decided he'd make enough regardless of their polite denial. It was a fortunate prediction as he took their empty cups from them and accompanied them to the door, having to lock it carefully as they departed.

A small carriage coated in heavy black varnish that hid every speck of wood beneath awaited, coupled to an albino pony. The driver flicked his whip at the moon as the trio joined him. "Allabawd me jolly mates, way to, way to?" It was a question designed to start small talk as the driver knew exactly where he had to go.

Soul and Maka were enjoying the rhythm of the carriage as they sat together in the back of the open top structure, atop the dense cushions. The relative lack of width on the sofa meant it more comfortable that they sit against one another, and together they sat in an easy, comfortable quiet, both listening to the pony's trot as each other's warmth seeped through their clothes, into one another and the quickly cooling night breeze.

Star was sat next to the driver, who had yet to realise that Star wanted neither conversation, nor to share his thoughts.

"Wew, (the driver pronounced his L's with just his lips) oi fink ih ain't awl bid, yuknow, what dem suvvners is doin. Once they keeps thems to themsewuhves we's only gunna benefit, roit? Cuzza them needin money we's get more for our money so iss all balance, wiv us more balanced than them!" He laughed too loudly at his awful joke, ending in coughs as Star winced a smile.

Star politely nodded along, not wishing the discomfort associated with telling another that their words are falling on deaf ears.

They all suffered a jolt as they changed tiers, which were separated with raised bricks, and as they journeyed further into the night under the incessant chatter of the driver Soul started to feel the familiar taps of the Imp.

**Knock knock. How're we feeling Soul? Good? Comfy? Content? I hope you're enjoying it. Don't think I've forgotten** The Imp let the final word slink back into the darkness with him. Already Soul's mood began to fall, plummet in fact. He kept his face still as he watched his emotions drop away once more, leaving nothing but empty exhaustion and the husk of how he felt.

They arrived at a crimson establishment, a burnished brass sign hung large above the door, the wrought metal titling itself "Rose's B&B".

"The bwass and bwonze, we're 'ere." The driver gesticulated with his thumb. He seemed nervous, as though the area gave him chills. Star noticed and whispered to him, whatever he said seemed to reassure the driver considerably.

Star helped Soul and Maka off the carriage and led them to the door.

"The owner is called rose, ask her for a room and put it in my name. I need to leave now, I'll find you later."

Soul just nodded as he turned away with a passing farewell. Maka smiled and expressed her gratuity much more properly. Soul was impatiently holding the shaking wooden door. The old planks were chipped at the bottom and the ring window in the centre was barred with protruding bronze bars.

( watch?v=g4JHRxTZJxk)

Inside red bulbs haunted the space, the thick air laden with smoke and cheap perfume. The fire blazed in the corner, though the weather didn't warrant the masses of logs piled upon it, almost suffocating the flames beneath the weight. Behind an old bar a large red haired woman chewed on gristle loudly, as her long dirty nails plucked the peeling surface of the bar; she flicked the small shards over the counter to join the small remnants of prior evenings.

She hardly looked up at her customers and as they walked to her she pulled up a large book from beneath the counter that had a slowly burning cigarette resting in a long holder. The burn marks on the surface suggested this was a common occurrence and she used the plucking hand to lift the cigarette to her mouth and the other to flick open the book.

She carried her weight well, but stress had made her cheeks heavy, her eyes sullen, her face creased with grime and age and her lips thick with strong red lipstick.

Soul ignored the smell of must that she exuded from rippled muslin clothes and as she turned to fetch their room key they saw the stretching stiches of the corset and the flesh bulging over.

A fat hand pointed them in the direction of their room and they walked. Hardly a word had been spoken between them.

Their room was expectedly dreary, a series of small square glass plates sat in a badly shaped window let the stench of the alley way behind the building waft in and its surface blurred the outside from soot and dirt.

Soul pulled his nose up with disgust as he walked to the window. Drawing a finger across left a slightly clearer streak, but dirtied his fingertip. He flicked it and felt the glass tremble, a hiss of distaste left his mouth.

Looking around he finally saw what had Maka standing uncomfortably in the doorway behind him.

There was one grey bed in the corner. One, old bed that was so small it hardly justified being called a single. To compound this issue, the wood planks they walked on were splintered and dust ridden, no doubt rats ran beneath and there quite literally was no place else to sleep.

They would have to share this night at least.

* * *

**A/N: So my exams are over, and just wanted to get this update in before I go on my eurotrip - no laptop ergo no updates again for another several weeks, but come summer I'll be getting them up every week. I've missed doing this. And as always, I'm incredibly grateful for your favourites and follows!**


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